Afterword
by chromeknickers
Summary: Jackie Burkhart had always believed that love conquered all. But what happens when love is taken away, when every single memory is erased from her past? How can she rebuild a life she cannot remember? And will Steven Hyde be content to be a mere footnote on a memoir that Jackie no longer cares to read? Post S8.
1. Prologue

A/N: It's safe to say that no Zennie was particularly thrilled about S8 (or even most of S7 for that matter). This story is not an attempt to right wrongs but rather an effort to set forth an afterwords for the series; one that strictly focusses on Jackie and Hyde's relationship, as well as mirror the 'afterword' of Jackie's inevitable metamorphosis... or possible regression.

Inspired by The Rolling Stones' _Ruby Tuesday_, which will eventually feature into the story, this piece will attempt to be introspective, slightly humorous, and arrogantly presumptuous in its feeble quest to encompass the darker half of Zen. And while this is primarily an angsty Jackie/Hyde fic, at its heart is a character study of Jackie and all her wonderful and not so wonderful layers (and maybe Hyde's too). But don't expect a masterpiece as I'm writing as I go. It's a plot clichéd on several levels, but in a way that will hopefully be fun to read. :)

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Prologue

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LOVE CONQUERED ALL, or at least that was what Jackie had always led herself to believe.

Love was supposed to be immeasurable and immutable, invincible and insurmountable, and any other adjective she could think of that began with the letter 'I'. Did Paris and Helen of Troy let anyone come between their love? Well, okay, they may have started a war that cost thousands of people their lives and brought about the destruction of an entire kingdom, but they followed their hearts and that's all that mattered in the end. Wasn't it?

Jackie Burkhart was certainly no Helen of Troy; she was vastly hotter than the ill-fated Trojan princess. After all, the razor had yet to be invented and personal hygiene and designer fashions weren't exactly high on everyone's priority list back in those days, if she were to believe the ramblings of her tenth grade History teacher. Or was he talking about the Medieval Ages? Whatever. It wasn't important.

Jackie preferred to be compared to beauties from the era of shaved legs, not a bunch of hairy, dirty, half-naked hemp-smokers. She was her own princess; a porcelain doll in need of her Prince Paris. Or was it King Menelaus? Again, another moot point. The real problem in Princess Jackie's life was that her current paramour wasn't shaping up to be a man willing to go to war for her. Their love certainly caused no riots between nations (or cliques); no wooden horses would be sneaked past her impenetrable forces; no foundations would be razed to the ground over their kisses. It was a love that was all just so... _ordinary_.

_Creepy and unnatural_—was that to be the pinnacle of her love life? And what good was that when it so easily abandoned her?

It didn't seem fair; however, Jackie had learnt over the past few years that life was anything but fair, even for beautiful people like herself. But there was one consistency in her life, one idea that never abandoned her, and that was the concept of love. For good or for bad, love would always be the focal point of Jackie Burkhart's existence (aside from herself); it was her obsession, that unattainable dream.

Love was supposed to immeasurable, but even Jackie wasn't that self-deluded to believe that was entirely true. She could measure love quite well, thank you very much—with gifts and words of adoration and promises, promises of a future and family together. The American dream. _The Jackie Burkhart dream_. Throw in a two carat princess cut diamond engagement ring, white doves and unicorns prancing on rainbows, and the dream would be complete. But, then again, Jackie knew better.

Oh, she could dream. She could delude herself with childish fantasies, but if Jackie were to dig really deep inside herself she'd admit (though never aloud) that love was more than materialistic trophies and Hallmark greetings. But selling out for such commercial propaganda just happened to be Jackie's bag, as it was countless others', and Jackie would never pretend to be any different.

Still, Jackie measured love—in both quantity and quality. And if you were to catch her in a circle, she might just admit to favourably leaning towards quality, but vehemently deny the confession once sober.

Jackie was well aware that there were all sorts of love, like the love of a pet or designer shoes or your crazy grandmother who smelled like Ben-Gay and used to call you Kathy but gave you twenty dollars every birthday, along with some of the best hugs you'll ever remember from your childhood. And then there were the loves of your lives, the men with whom you so foolishly handed over your fragile heart. From her first love with Michael to the ego-boosting crush she shared with Fez, Jackie could count the worth and amount of love on her fingers, tally the scores in her head. And while both loves were sweet in their own ways, they were sadly very quantifiable.

Michael was the easiest one to size up. He was her first boyfriend, the one who had first carved a niche in Jackie's heart, the one with whom she would grade all others against, at first, anyway. And he was the one she would always remember because he was her first and because she has always been a romantic at heart.

Fez, on the other hand, was someone who spent a bit more time opening up her mind rather than settling in her heart. Some loves, she discovered, weren't necessarily about control or passion or about heartache and forgetting how to breathe. Fez had made her feel good about herself when she had been at her lowest. He worshipped the very ground she walked on. For a while Jackie believed that was exactly what she needed, exactly what she deserved; to be catered to and coddled, to never be challenged or grounded. But it was a one-sided love affair that left a bitter taste in her mouth, if only for the fact that her heart refused to hold reasonable negotiations with her mind.

And then there was Steven Hyde, the rebel without a cause; always defying the rules and scoffing in the face of convention, subscribing to nonsensical conspiracy theories faster and more frequently than she set her hair (which happened to be quite often). A man who never did or said _exactly_ what she wanted but somehow opened her up to this totally different dimension of love that she couldn't possibly bring herself to define; not even if she had a thousand monkeys working at a thousand typewriters.

Steven Hyde was like biting into tinfoil. It was stupid idea and it hurt like hell to do, but it was interesting and fun and her curiosity got the best of her because she would bite into him regardless of the consequences—again and again and again. But more than that he made her laugh, made her cry, made her scream. And instead of carving himself into a small spot of her heart, he took the entirety of it in his hands and seared his fingerprints into it, making it as much his own as hers. It was the kind of love that could never be measured or articulated; it was unpredictable and dangerous, all-consuming until it left her breathless and twisted inside.

_Still left her twisted inside_.

The one thing Jackie did know for certain was that love was _anything but_ immutable. Love changed things. It didn't just change how you felt—how you regarded someone one day and the next. Love changed who you were. Love shifted your world to suit its needs. Sometimes it made you a better person; sometimes it made you worse. Sometimes all love did was strip away your identity until there was nothing left but an empty shell waiting to be discarded or rebuilt from the foundations up. Or it left you naked and exposed, clutching onto anything that would fill you with warmth again. But the latter was a dark, cruel path to travel down; one filled with brambles and thorns that sliced into your sides, carving twisted, unrecognisable patterns into vulnerable flesh. That kind of love sucked you down into a pit that you yourself dug with your own bare hands; the dirt still embedded underneath your fingernails.

Jackie had dug her own pit of love and self-loathing. She had dug so deeply and so blindly that she could no longer see the sky above and was too numb from the effort to crawl out of the hole she had so willingly fell into. Or maybe she was thrown into it. Yeah, maybe she had dug the pit but someone else tossed her in, and now she was wallowing in the mud, unable to climb out. But even at the bottom of her utmost despair, Jackie was an optimist, a foolish romantic. All was not lost as long as there was love, she still reasoned. And she was right, in a way.

Sure, love could conquer a lot of problems, as long as you figured out what love was truly for. And sometimes—just sometimes—if you were lucky enough, a sliver of light would find its way through the darkness, lighting a path of escape. And if you were strong enough, willing enough, and had just enough luck on your side, you could follow that light out of the hole and into freedom.

And while Jackie didn't know it at the time, she would eventually see the light...

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	2. Ruby Tuesday

Ruby Tuesday

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_14 February 1980  
Point Place, Wisconsin  
Fez and Jackie's Apartment _

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"JACKIE, WILL YOU m-marry me?"

It had taken Fez three attempts to spit out the proposal, awkwardly thrusting the open blue velvet box into Jackie's hands. The ring had a small diamond set in its centre, framed on either side by two even smaller stones. It was not at all the kind of engagement ring Jackie had been dreaming about since she was a little girl, but it was fashionable in its own charming sort of way.

Sitting stymied on the edge of her bed, Jackie's mouth worked soundlessly, fruitlessly trying to produce some sort of response. To her own dismay, her cupid bow lips twisted into a frown and she glanced down at her hands, which were idly fingering the velvet box. An agonizing moment later she glanced up and met Fez's gaze, her answer finally tumbling out with a shake of her chestnut curls,

"No."

There was a pregnant pause, followed by audible swallowing.

_Wait—what? No? Hold on a second here. Maybe I didn't hear that right._

"Uh, Jackie—" Fez ran his tongue along his upper lip, his eyes darting nervously about the room "—m-maybe you didn't hear me."

_Maybe is right! I must have gone temporarily deaf; that's the only explanation._

"No, I heard you," Jackie said despondently, her head bowed as she thrust the velvet box back into Fez's hands. "My answer is still no."

_Oh my God, what is happening?_

Fez was now shifting from foot to foot, his tongue doing a terrible job on his lips. "Ai! Is it because I am not down on the knee?" He swallowed tightly, bending his body forward as though he were about to do just that. "B-because I can do that."

_Yes! It's because you're not proposing the proper way, down on bended knee! Obviously I want this to be perfect, but maybe I'm taking things a bit too far. I must have had Donna's Carnation Instant Bitch this morning. Whatever. It doesn't matter. I will accept his proposal regardless. Proceed, my darling Fez._

"No, please don't do that," Jackie said awkwardly, her throat constricting as she shifted farther down the bed. "It doesn't matter if you get down on bended knee, Fez. I can't marry you."

_What? Why the hell not?_

"Why not?"

_That's what I'm asking! God, why am I not listening to myself?_

"I'm just not ready for _that_." She was twisting the soft cotton sheets between her fingers. "We've only been dating a month and a half, Fez. Don't you, uh—don't you think it's a little too soon for marriage?"

_Too soon? Too soon! Who the hell are you and why have you taken over my vocal chords?_

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Fez admitted with a sigh. Whether it was a sigh of relief or disappointment, she couldn't tell. "I just assumed since it was Valentine's Day that maybe—" he gestured to the blue velvet box in his hands "—this was what you wanted."

_Yes! You guessed right, Fez! Now tell him he's right, stupid brain! Or wait—if you're the brain talking, what am I? Am I the brain? God, this is all so confusing. I wish I had taken Sociology in school, or whatever ology that has to do with the brain that makes people nutjobs for no reason. _

_God! Just take the damn ring, already! This is what I've always wanted—security, the promise of a family, a nice, shiny ring. Stop diggin' in your heels like a stupid Steven Hyde, and just say yes! _

_Ugh, no, no, no! Now I'm thinking about Steven. Don't you dare mention Steven to Fez or I will—I will... Dammit, I can't threaten myself. I'm too beautiful!_

"God! Does everyone really think I'm _that_ wedding-hungry?" Jackie threw up her hands in disgust. "If you remember correctly, _I_ turned down Michael's marriage proposal."

_Come to think of it—why did you say no?_

"Look Fez—" her expression had shifted from sombre to serious "—I don't want men proposing to me because they think that's what I want." Fez opened his mouth to retort, but Jackie quickly cut him off, "I'm only eighteen and I don't even have a real job. I'm just—I'm just not ready for that kind of commitment... _yet_."

_WHO THE HELL is saying these things? You're ready! I'm ready! Jackie Burkhart was born ready!_

"I understand." Fez lowered his head, his chest sunken in defeat as he turned towards the door. "Maybe I should stay with Kelso for a while."

Jackie's eyes widened in panic and she jumped off the bed. "No, wait! I-I didn't mean for us to break up or anything. I still want to be with you. I just want to take things slow this time."

_Oh, so suddenly you're no longer Miss Play-It-Cool? Can't take the ring but can't be alone either? Not so different from me, are you?_

Fez snapped the box lid shut and slipped it into his pocket. "I knew this would happen. I told myself not to get involved with you, but I did." He glanced up at the ceiling, his dark brown eyes shining wetly in the fluorescent light, and sighed deeply. "Hyde was right; you make men stupid."

Jackie visibly flinched as though he had just struck her in the face.

_Why did he have to mention him, of all people?_

"Fez, I didn't say I wanted to break up. I'm just not ready for—"

"Jacqueline, enough!" Fez was using his formal tone with her, his voice harsh. It reminded her of arguments with her father; back when he actually gave a damn. She instinctively cowered, and Fez's eyes softened at her demure position. "Please, Jackie, be honest for once in your life." His jaw clenched stubbornly. "You do not wish to be with me."

"Fez, I—no, it's not like that. I mean we haven't even, you know." Her cheeks heated with colour. "I'm just not ready for marriage yet."

"You were ready with Hyde," he countered.

"I—that was different. I was young and—"

"Jackie, it was less than a year ago."

The petite brunette sighed and brought a hand to her hair, nervously twirling a lock around her index finger. "With Steven, it was different. I needed some assurances." She dropped her hand and huffed. "But this isn't about me and Steven."

"You're right." Fez curled his hands into fists and let them fall to his sides. "It's about me and you, Jackie, and how there is no longer a me and you."

Jackie's body froze in place. "Fez, don't—"

"I told you I wouldn't be sloppy thirds, Jackie." The look on his face was that of sad resignation, and her heart clenched painfully in her chest. She felt like she had just kicked a puppy.

"But you're not, Fez!"

_That's it. Reel him back in. Any man would be happy to be Jackie Burkhart's sloppy whatevers, but don't let him know you think that way. He might think you're vainglorious or something._

"Do you even want to get married?"

_No! What are you doing giving him an out?_

"I honestly don't know." He let out a long, protracted sigh before leaning against the doorframe. "All I know it that I do not like seeing you unhappy."

_Then why are you breaking up with me?_

"Then why are you with me?" Small tears were pooling at the corners of her eyes.

_What?_

"What?"

"I mean—" she cleared her throat and gestured lamely with her hands "—why are you breaking up with me, if you don't like seeing me unhappy?"

He offered her a sad half-smile. "My ego can only handle so much abuse." When Jackie bowed her head, he let out another tired sigh before pushing off the frame. "I care for you, Jackie. I really do. You have this way of making the person you are with feel like they are the centre of your universe and it is a wonderful feeling. But I have not felt that way in a long time." His voice dropped to a whisper, "Maybe I never did."

"Fez—" She jumped towards him, but he took a step back, holding up his hand to stop her.

"I cannot." His face was a mask of pain. "I cannot talk about this with you right now."

_But what about me?_

"But what about us?" Her voice was small, not quite her own.

"It was a great seven weeks—until tonight," Fez added the last part gravely, and Jackie finally lifted her chin to meet his gaze. He looked sad but determined.

"So this is it?" He nodded regrettably, and she began to fidget.

_Tell him how much you love him! Don't let him break up with you! Ask him to stay!_

"Will you—will you still be my friend?" Her voice broke at the end, and Fez's heart broke along with it. What she was worried about the most was losing his companionship.

Taking in a deep breath, Fez lifted her chin and gave her a look, the kind that said, 'I am not Hyde'. Her bottom lip began to tremble, and he folded her into his arms.

"I will always be your friend, my dearest Jackie. Always."

She hiccupped back a sob and clung tightly to her best friend like a lifeline. Fez closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head before letting go and walking away, like every man in Jackie Burkhart's life.

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JACKIE SAT MUTELY at the foot of her bed, trying to draw air out of a room that had plenty just a few minutes ago and now seemed to have none.

Fez was long gone, along with the voice that had taken over her; the voice that had decided to reject her one sure thing. The apartment was eerily empty and silent, save the old Ariston that sat on top of her dresser, quietly spinning vinyl. The needle ran smooth for the most part, idly skipping the shallow grooves on the dated record as popping pockets of static signalled the ushering of a new track.

_She would never say where she came from  
Yesterday don't matter if it's gone_

She knew there was air going down her throat, breathing in and out again in a series of feverish gasps, but that didn't change the feeling that she was alone, drowning at the foot of her bed while listening to the dulcet tones of The Rolling Stones croon about losing some girl or losing a dream. She wasn't exactly sure. All she could agree with was the sentiment that life was unkind.

_Lose your dreams  
And you will lose your mind  
Ain't life unkind?_

Jackie groaned and took in another hitching gasp of air. She wasn't crying; no she had cried all her tears months ago. She hadn't cried since after she heard that Steven was going to stay with Sam—his wife. Back then the tears wouldn't stop; back then the pain was too great for her to worry about such minor matters of respiration or how there seemed to be no air in the room. The pain then had swallowed her whole before slicing into her like a knife; a blade twisting into an open wound so that it would never fully heal. And Jackie had to admit that the wound hadn't healed. Maybe that was why the room had so little air in it; maybe she wasn't just hiccupping back tearless sobs for Fez.

The realisation startled her and she frowned. Closing her eyes, Jackie willed herself to breathe again. She wasn't going to let _him_ affect her when she was supposed to be grieving over the end of a relationship with another man. After a few attempts her breathing finally began to ease a little, coming back to her in slower, even gasps.

She turned to face the wall and her eyes connecting with her own; a reflection of herself in a gilded mirror. Her eyes widened at first and then narrowed, taking in her flushed and pretty face. She didn't recognise herself at first; her eyes were expressionless as shards of glass twinkling on summer pavement.

_What has happened to me? Who am I?_

The phone rang loudly, and she jumped in her seat; her concentration shattered. A second ring, just as ear-splitting, and she was lunging across her mattress and reaching towards her nightstand. Her hand found the phone in its cradle and picked it up before it rang a third time.

"Hello?" Her voice was shaky but clear. God, what was it about answering the telephone when you were emotionally devastated? Did you subconsciously want the other person on the line to know you were upset? Were you seeking attention or only aggravating your own pain?

"Miss Jacqueline Burkhart?" It was a woman's voice, unfamiliar but crisp and professional.

"Yes?" Jackie cleared her throat. "Speaking."

"Miss Burkhart, this is Gloria West calling on behalf of Mr Thompson, the general production manager for News 4 at WTMJ-TV." _Oh my God!_ "Mr Thompson received your audition tape and application letter the other day and he would like to have you in for an interview for an internship position here at WTMJ-TV in Milwaukee, if you are interested."

"I—of course! I'd love to come in for an interview!" Jackie didn't even bother to ask what type of internship it was—if it was paid, non-paid, production or broadcast. It didn't matter. WTMJ-TV was the flagship station of the Journal Broadcast Group and an affiliate of NBC. If she could make a name for herself there, no matter how insignificant, then there was no telling how high up the corporate broadcasting ladder she could climb.

"That's great, Miss Burkhart. Mr Thompson is away on business next week and is heavily scheduled all Friday afternoon." There was a brief pause. "Is it possible for you to come in tomorrow morning at nine? I know it's short notice—"

"I'll be there! Bright and early!"

"Good." Jackie could hear the woman smile on the other end, and she was faintly aware that she herself was smiling. "Let me just give you the directions to Radio City. Do you have a pen and paper handy?"

Jackie was already skidding across to the other side of the room, riffling through her small desk drawer before pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. She began scribbling down the address, making noises in the affirmative as Ms West gave Jackie detailed directions. Once off the phone, Jackie allowed herself a triumphant squeal of delight before dancing wildly about her bedroom.

This was her first break in God only knew how long. Maybe this was the fresh start she needed. Maybe some of that lesbian-feminist self-awareness crap Donna had been jabbering about all these years finally got through. Jackie didn't need a man to make her feel good about herself; she just needed herself. And suddenly Jackie didn't feel like crying anymore; now she could finally breathe.

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THE FLOORBOARDS CREAKED as Jackie walked down the stairs into the basement. She wasn't sure why she was even here to begin with. Her hopes in telling Donna and Eric the good news had been dashed when she remembered that it was Valentine's Day and the two were out for dinner, as were the Formans.

It deflated her ego a bit knowing that she wouldn't be celebrating the romantic holiday with her significant other, as Fez had dumped her for rejecting his marriage proposal. He was probably already in Chicago by now, hanging out with Michael (his one true love). There was really no reason for Jackie to be here.

Lost in thought, she stood on the bottom of the landing and paused when she saw the back of Steven Hyde's head. He sat slumped in his usual seat; a beer nestled in his hand as he casually watched whatever it was that was playing on the television. He didn't even bother to glance back over his shoulder or acknowledge her presence.

Deliberately brushing past him, Jackie sank down into the yellow sofa and slipped her hands into the pockets of her navy pea coat. It was too hot inside to wear a coat, but she kept it on anyway. She had decided to leave for Milwaukee that night and stay at a motel, allowing for her to be refreshed and ready for her early morning interview. Her bags were already packed, stuffed in the back of the ugly blue Gremlin she had bought cheap last week. God she hoped no one at the station would assume the car was hers. If the interview went well, she figured she make a day trip out of it and go shopping. After her break-up with Fez she could really do with a little shallow pick-me-up consumerism.

"Hey."

Jackie stole an innocent glance at her ex. He was wearing one of his Led Zeppelin t-shits. She wasn't sure which one as they all sort of bled together in her mind. But the dirty, worn tee fit him perfectly, accentuating the broad span of his chest and the long, hard line of his stomach. If it wasn't for the porn 'stach, she'd be drooling.

_Dammit, why the hell couldn't he be ugly?_

Hyde stirred, probably more so out of having felt her eyes on him than her formal greeting, and grunted his hello before setting down his beer and returning to his program. Then, as though suddenly realising who he had somewhat politely acknowledged, his entire body went rigid. Folding his muscled arms across his chest, he easily shifted back into Zen, his eyebrows slightly raised above his thin-framed aviators.

"What are you doing here?" He directed a half-hearted glare in Jackie's direction, and she bristled at his tone, feeling her own lips twist into a grimace.

"I came to see if Donna and Eric were here."

"Well—" he shrugged, his elbows pointing outwards "—as you can see, they're not."

Jackie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I figured that out on my own."

"Really?" He leaned forward, reaching across her knee to grab his beer from the table. "Good work, Columbo."

His arm barely grazed her jeans when he settled back into his seat, and Jackie let out a short burst of air. She hadn't even realised that she had been holding her breath until she expelled it. Feeling frustrated and slightly embarrassed, she turned and tried to inconspicuously inch away from him.

Why had she sat so close?

He was leaning forward again, setting the beer back down on the table, and she closed her eyes, catching his scent. She was trying hard not to look at him, not to think about him. With him being so close, them being alone together, Jackie couldn't help but remember how it had been that summer in the basement. How he always knew where and how to touch her, how his mouth would always find her lips, her jaw, her throat—any uncovered flesh. How his beard would tickle her skin, how his large, warm hands would roam her body or delicately cup her cheeks; his fingers tangling in her hair, hers tangling in his. Kissing long, hot, and languid; sucking the air out of each other's lungs, always desperate for more.

"What are you still doing here?"

Jackie jumped slightly in her seat, startled awake from her reverie. Realising his tone was anything but a soft inquiry, she gritted her teeth and summoned her pride before sitting up straight. "I'm allowed to be here, _Hyde_."

He stiffened slightly at her use of his surname, or rather the lack of his first name. It was a subtle movement, the way his shoulders lowered and titled back, the way his right jaw worked like he was trying hard not to grind his teeth; it was almost like a facial tick. But it was the small things that she noticed about him, minuscule details she had trained herself to watch and wait for. Yeah, she still knew him.

"Well, I guess once your kind is officially invited in you can enter any time you like." A cruel smirk curved on his lips before he blanked his expression completely and turned back to the television. "But I wouldn't go around saying you're _allowed_ to be here, Jackie." He folded his arms across his chest. "You've just worn out your welcome."

"I've worn out _my_ welcome?" Jackie snorted indelicately, mimicking his movements as she positioned her arms beneath her breasts. "At least I'm not living rent-free in Mommy and Daddy's basement while getting stoned and shit-faced twenty-four-seven." She watched as Hyde's arms unlocked and fell to his sides, his large hands clenching into fists.

"No, you've got Prince Charming to mooch offa," he quipped, turning slightly towards her. "At least I don't have to put out for my meals."

Jackie held his contemptuous gaze and smirked; so she had struck a nerve. "Jealous?"

He scoffed at first and then decided to lean forward, invading her personal space with his typical scornful derision. "Tell me, Jackie—do you ever put that big mouth of yours to good use?"

She glared and leaned in, her lips only inches away from his. "All. The. Time," she enunciated with a throaty purr, causing him to pull away before she did. "You should ask Fez."

The chair made a squeaking noise as Hyde shifted back, his jaw clenching in anger as he folded his arms across his chest. With barely concealed smugness, Jackie noted the slight flex in his chest and the way his nostrils flared at her insinuation. She couldn't quite make out his eyes behind the aviators, but she could tell those baby blues of his were just smouldering with ire underneath, questioning whether or not she had really done _that_ for Fez.

"Bullshit! Fez would have been parading that information around here like he won the fucking Kentucky Derby!" He inched in close again, his hot breath whispering against her neck. "And I know for a fact you two haven't fucked yet."

"Oh, you _know_, do you?" Jackie's voice was pure venom, and she shuffled back until their eyes met and locked.

Her chest was heaving and she was trying her best to slow everything down, to will away the blush that was quickly creeping up her neck and blossoming on her cheeks. How could he do this so easily to her still, unravel her resolve with well-placed and well-pitched words while he remained his precious Zen? Jackie wanted to rip those damn sunglasses off his face and pitch them across the room.

"What's the matter, princess?" Hyde's mouth was dangerously close to her neck again; his voice a husky baritone warmly undulating against her skin. "He not doing it for you?"

Suddenly, some place deep inside Jackie snapped, and she reared back. He was too close, too hot, too Steven. She balled her hands into fists and dug them into the spaces between the cushions. Her gaze lifted to his face and she saw the look of triumph flash in his eyes, carefully concealed behind his aviators; but perhaps not carefully enough.

She decided to switch tactics, her tight scowl morphing into a predatory grin. He could out-Zen her all he liked, but _she_ was the better actor.

"Oh, you have no idea what Fez can do for me, _Steven_." She had purred his name, slowly dragging her tongue across her upper lip, not once breaking eye contact. "The things he does to me—" her fingers went to her mouth and she watched as his gaze hungrily and angrily followed "—the things I do to him." She let the plump tip of her middle finger slip past her teeth. "They could make a sailor blush with shame."

Hyde's entire body tensed, his muscles straining against the fabric of his cheap concert tee. He exhaled hotly through his nose and lowered his shades, exposing those vulnerable cerulean blues of his that were now flashing with unmasked contempt. His Zen veneer was already beginning to crack.

"_What_ are you doing here, Jackie?" he growled, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

That damn voice of his; those damn eyes. She was supposed to be over him. That was what this whole act of trading barbs was supposed to be about, to show him that he didn't affect her. She could not only play his game, but she could best him at it. But she just didn't have it in her anymore. She felt... tired.

"You know what, I don't even know anymore." She stood to her feet and grabbed her purse before turning to him. "Why would I want to be alone here with a dirty, burnout loser like you, anyway?"

"Beats me." He shrugged; his tone equally vitriolic, but his Zen had, for the most part, returned.

Once Hyde pushed his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose, reverting to his casual indifference, Jackie knew any hope of her scoring points in this argument had gone out the window. As good as she had become at burning people over the years, largely in thanks to his training, she could never out-burn the burn master. It was time to cut her losses and run before she started kicking shins or shoving pointed heels up burnouts' asses.

"I'm leaving!" she announced with a snarl, heading for the door.

"Good."

"Great!"

"Bye, Jackie." He mock saluted her, making a point not to shift from the television, not to grace her with even a subtle turn of his head. "Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

"You're an asshole!" she screeched, throwing the door wide open. "And goodbye!"

Doing her best flounce out of the basement, Jackie slammed the door shut behind her and tore up the stairs and out of the Formans' driveway. She would get as fast and as far away from Steven Hyde as her tank of gas could afford.

**.**

**.**

**.**

THE RAIN WAS coming down really hard, making it difficult to see let alone drive. The forecast had called for freezing rain in the greater Kenosha area but said that Highway 41 North to Milwaukee would be relatively clear.

Jackie glanced out the windshield and winced as the rain began to hail down, battering her poor blue Gremlin. Relatively clear, her ass!

She placed both hands at ten and two on the wheel and took in a deep breath and exhaled nervously. She really didn't like to drive, especially at night and even more so during bad weather. And nothing screamed bad driving weather conditions like freezing rain, except for maybe tornadoes. But this was Wisconsin, and that wasn't likely to happen this time of the year—at least she hoped not. But anything was possible with her luck these past few months.

So Jackie put her faith in her old hunk of junk Gremlin. The car, though a dreadful eyesore, functioned well enough. It could be a bit of a gas guzzler, but it got her from point A to point B in one piece and that's all she needed. She worked as a hair sweeper at a run-of-the-mill salon in Point Place for God's sake. This piece of shit was all she could afford. At least it had the two most important 'luxuries' that her now-poor Wisconsin heart could hope to afford: a working heater and radio.

Deciding that music would maybe help distract her from the lonely, dark and scary highway, Jackie switched on the dial. _Ruby Tuesday_ immediately started blaring through the small speakers.

_She just can't be chained  
To a life where nothing's gained  
And nothing's lost  
At such a cost_

"You again, huh?" Jackie smiled, remembering how the song had played earlier when she got the call for the interview. "I wonder if this is a sign."

She turned her head for just a moment and a rush of twin beams veered towards her in the darkness. Swerving to avoid the out-of-control car, Jackie tried to keep her own vehicle on the road. But the pavement was too slippery, the highway too dark, and she wasn't entirely familiar.

Icy strokes of moonlight filtered through the rain, gleaming on the windshield as she threw herself into each turn, trying to balance out the small car that had now become a trundling behemoth veering wildly on the ice-slicked road. Her attention flickered for just an instant to her rear-view mirror, catching the terrified look in her own eyes and the stressful grimace twisting on her lips.

The car pulled a sharp right to the shoulder, spinning her towards a small grove of trees. She wasn't going to even it out, she realised. She wasn't going to make it—

—Jackie jerked awake in her seat, gasping, her forehead damp with sweat. She must have been breathing hard for some time because her window was humid with condescension, almost completely fogged in.

Her head was throbbing, like someone had taken an anvil to it. She tried to lift her hand to touch it, but her arm wouldn't move and she couldn't fathom why. Something wet and warm trickled down her left temple and spilled over her eye, pooling on the bottom of her lip. Hitching in a wheezy gasp, Jackie inadvertently tasted the salty copper liquid on her tongue and realised it wasn't sweat streaming down her face but blood.

Her vision began to swim and her pulse pounded loudly in her ears. The radio was still churning out its last chorus, although weak and tinny now as a truck horn blared in the distance. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but it was a losing battle. The greying fog of unconsciousness had already found her, curling its cold, damp fingers into her brain.

_Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday  
Who could hang a name on you?  
When you change with every new day  
Still I'm gonna miss you_

Then everything went black.

**.**

**.**

**.**


	3. Hey You

A/N: Title and lyrics in italics are by Pink Floyd. Keep such references in mind as I will probably title each chapter after a song from the 60s or 70s in order to reflect the mood of the piece (or whatever song I happen to be listening to while writing).

This particular chapter is rated M for harsh language (Hyde has a dirty, filthy mind), mildly _implied_ smut, and the _egregious_ use of introspection. *waggles finger disapprovingly at myself*

* * *

Hey You

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Hey you  
Don't help them to bury the light  
Don't give in without a fight_

**.**

**.**

"WHAT HAVE WE got?"

"Young woman in her late teens, early twenties—car accident; lacerations and contusions to the face and chest, right arm dislocated, probable broken ribs, and possible head and brain trauma."

"What's her medical history; any allergies?"

"No idea. No ID, nothing. The police are still looking into it at the scene."

"Hmm. Pupils are dilated; minimal response to light. How long has she been unconscious?"

"Paramedics say since they picked her up about fifteen minute ago."

"Her left lobe is slightly swollen."

"Cerebral haemorrhage?"

"Christ, I hope not. I see no open wounds, no clear abrasions except for the ones on her face, neck, and arms. We've gotta open her up and stop the bleeding; relieve the pressure on her brain before she goes into a coma. Prep her and get her into OR 1, STAT!"

"Hang in there, sweetheart."

_Steven? Steven, where are you? What's happening to me?_

"You're going to make it."

**.**

**.**

**.**

_17 February 1980  
Point Place, Wisconsin  
The Formans' Basement_

**.**

**.**

HYDE'S MEMORY OF last night was a blur of alcohol and weed and the one and a half syllable caw of his name being bleated in his ear by some annoying fuckwit of girl whose name he couldn't recall, and who had yet to leave his cot.

The morning light, if it was indeed morning, filtered in through the tiny slit of a window above, slinking softly up his naked torso until it found his face. He squinted, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the harsh glare. Since when was there ever this much light in his room?

Behind him he could feel the smooth shapely limbs of the girl had he picked up last night at the bar. She was snoring soundly into his pillow, the thin outline of her body slightly writhing underneath the sheets. She stirred as he woke; pressing full, soft breasts into his back.

Hyde grimaced and tried his best not to recollect the previous night, or how easily he had found himself in flagrante delicto with the petite brunette nestled behind him. The booze and pot had helped with that, but faint memories were rising to the surface of his mind like exhaled filigree curls of smoke.

Hyde normally avoided her type; the small, tanned, dark-haired snotty bitches with big mouths. It was one of the reasons he went after taller girls; slutty blondes and redheads with large racks and long legs—the anti-Jackie Burkhart diet.

The nameless brunette lying behind him was quiet, though she was still asleep. He couldn't recall the sound of her voice, except the one time she yelled out his name; Hyde. He remembered telling her to shut the fuck up; he wasn't interested in talking, wasn't interested in hearing her speak. If she couldn't comply with this simple demand then she could get the fuck out. But she hadn't seemed to mind. She was just another nameless chick slumming it with a burnout loser, getting back at Daddy for whatever reason. That was what he'd figured anyway, and even if it wasn't the case he didn't care. All he had wanted was an easy lay.

It was probably the alcohol and the weed (yeah, most definitely the weed) that made him pick her in the first place, or the fact that the rest of the girls at the bar were either taken or uggos. Or maybe he had just zeroed in on the one girl in the joint who looked a little like Jackie. Of course he'd never admit that or the fact that the only girls he had been cruising with after Jackie were her exact opposites. But last night was different. The argument he and Jackie'd had Thursday night had still been playing in his head like a broken record.

She hadn't bothered to come back to the basement after that. She and Fez had been missing since Friday, which only sent Hyde over the edge. By Saturday night he was alone, drunk and high, and itching to find the release that booze and drugs were no longer giving him. He needed a revenge fuck, and he needed it from someone who looked like _her_.

It didn't take long for Hyde to capture the nameless brunette's attention (it never did). She had been interested and willing. Right away he noticed she had the same hair and build. Her eyes were different, though, as was her face. But she had a flash of that same pirate smile Jackie had—maybe it was something all rich, beautiful bitches shared—and that was good enough for him.

A few beers later and they had already retreated to the back of the bar, their drinks long forgotten as he had her back pressed against the wall, his lips full on hers while his hands eagerly roamed her lithe body. She had moaned into his mouth, eager and pliant, but the angry, bruised kisses he had been giving this girl weren't meant for her. They'd never be for her or any other whore.

The nameless chick murmured in her sleep, stirring Hyde from his half-drunken reverie. He closed his eyes and groaned, trying to shut out the memories of the rest of the night. Most of it was still a haze, thanks to the alcohol and pot. What made him bring this girl back to his old room in the basement he couldn't give an explanation for; it was something he had never done with any girl except Jackie and Sam—no, not even with Sam. Whatever. And now Hyde was painfully aware that he didn't want this girl here anymore. He wanted her the fuck out of his bed, but it was too early yet. He'd kick her out after the Formans left for church. He didn't need her making a racket with Red around or he'd be liable to get a boot shoved up his ass.

Stealing a cursory glance at the brunette's slumbering form, Hyde frowned. The girl seemed docile enough, but that didn't mean when awake she wasn't a shitstorm waiting to happen. He vaguely recalled her trying to talk when he had her naked and on all fours on his cot, but he had told her to keep her trap shut. The fantasy was always ruined when the girl opened her piehole.

She had willingly complied, eager for a fuck and wagging her ass in the air like a bitch in heat. But when she had begun to moan in thrall he had pushed her face into the pillow to stifle her cries. He didn't need to hear that shit; she hadn't sounded right, not like Jackie. _She_ was the one he was supposed to be revenge-fucking, getting back at her for her whorish mouth and the way she always tried to goad him. Fucking bitch never knew when to keep her trap shut, when to let things go.

Why did she always have to make him feel?

But all Hyde could feel right now was a hammer pounding inside his head and the narrowing pinpoint of a clammy sort of churning in his gut. When the nameless brunette began to cling tighter he shoved her off with a grumble, his jaw clenching in disgust. Naked, sweaty flesh peeled away and he slumped into a sitting position, holding his head in his hands before getting up and sloughing off towards the toilet.

He'd kick the girl out after breakfast.

**.**

**.**

**.**

HER FATHER ALWAYS used to say that the only certain things in life were death and taxes. Of course he had been wrong about the latter; Jack Burkhart had probably been dodging taxes for years before he was pinched and thrown in jail. But death—death was certain, of that much Jackie could concede to be accurate. And now she was swimming through her own silver cloud of euthanasia, her thoughts spinning and whirling like a merry-go-round; except the horses had fangs and her father was in the saddle, beating her down while her mother trilled drunkenly in the background.

Her ribs and shoulders ached and her eyelids seemed sewn shut, and all she wanted to do was collapse into _his_ arms. But _he_ wasn't here, wherever _here_ was. And it was a moot point anyway because he was never there for her anymore. In here, inside her mind at this moment, there was only dear old dad, hair like a raven's eyes with distinguished streaks of grey, barking and howling at her with all his authority. And she was crying or laughing, trying to get off the damn horse and swim away—to be anywhere but there.

But her father was insisting, insisting that she stay still while silver tendrils of her past were being siphoned from her mind. Liquid silver, she thought dismally. She tried to stop them from leaving her, grasping fruitlessly as they slipped through her fingers, yelling, "No, not this one! Not that one!" But it was already too late; they were leaving her like everyone else in her life.

And her dad was still screaming, still barking orders, but she had finally broken free and swam, swam with all her might. She wasn't going to listen to dear old dad—no, not anymore. But it didn't matter because the silver water was already dragging her under the current, swallowing her whole.

**.**

**.**

**.**

HYDE SHIFTED AWAKE on the couch.

His neck and joints were stiff from the awkward angle he had been sleeping in. He'd had a dream about his father, Bud. It was strange how those sorts of memories always seemed to come to him in his dreams, memories he would have liked to forget. They were things his waking mind didn't care to consider, so they decided to dredge themselves up as he slumbered. Perhaps it was the counterbalance to his Zen; he was made to suffer while he slept.

The dream itself he could barely recall, except that Bud had been there; he had been burying Hyde alive. It had always been an irrational fear of his, and most people would tell you if you dreamt about being buried alive it meant you felt trapped or helpless or you were about to make a really stupid mistake. But Hyde didn't care about psychological bullshit like that. No, what really made the wheels and cogs spin in his mind were the metaphysics of it all; like how did he know what it felt like to be buried alive, what reference did he have for comparison?

He often had dreams about being buried alive or being drowned and yet he had never experienced either terrifying sensation. Were these dreams memories from past lives or were they portents? Or maybe he just possessed a vivid imagination for the macabre. Hyde had no trouble forming a perfectly rational basis for his fears, but he did have trouble with trying to adapt those hypothetical fears to the de facto ones in his life—not that he would admit to having any.

Sitting up, Hyde cupped his face in his hands and breathed deeply. He didn't need to be thinking about this shit, trying to decipher his dreams like Sigmund Freud. What he needed was a joint and another beer to help wash over this nagging hangover. Or maybe not. Beer, pot, and girls; in the beginning they had helped him forget, but now he was beginning to think that he might have indulged too much and the effects were starting to screw with his mind.

Hyde thought back to the petite brunette from this morning, the one that sort of looked like Jackie, the one who had screeched and swore and kicked at him when he had unceremoniously tossed her clothes at her and pointed towards the basement door. He hadn't expected her to be that upset about it, not that he cared. But the entire dramatic act only reminded him of something and someone he didn't want to remember.

He didn't need the past stirred up for him. He was through with feeling, with caring, and no amount of drinking and getting high seemed to be dulling those emotions he so vehemently denied having. So maybe it was best for him to lay off the stash and booze for a little while—at least for a day or two. He certainly didn't need a repeat performance of last night, not in this life time.

Taking in another deep breath, Hyde exhaled sharply and lowered his hands. He stood up and briefly palmed his face before yawning, feeling the leaden lethargy of tiredness creep back into his bones. What he needed was more sleep, to relegate these stupid, needless thoughts to the back of his mind and get some rest. Then tomorrow he'd start over again, refreshed with a new plan of action (or inaction). Because tomorrow was another day, a new day, and new days were always better than old ones.

**.**

**.**

**.**

FEZ PUSHED THE key into the lock of his and Jackie's two-bedroom apartment. It was a quarter past eleven and he was tired and still hungover (the trip back to Point Place from Chicago had been hell). The last three days with Kelso had been a blur of alcohol, candy, and women—and not necessarily in that order. It had been fun but exhausting.

On the last night he and Kelso had finally had a talk about Jackie, putting his life and his relationship with the brunette into perspective. Jackie had been right to ask him if marriage was what he truly wanted because he really wasn't sure at this point. He just wanted her to be happy and for him to be happy too. This in itself wasn't a problem; the problem was that them being together didn't exactly make this happy dream possible.

Blinking in the darkness, Fez reached for the hall light switch. He had felt bad about what he said to Jackie and wanted to apologise, but at the same time his ego was still bruised; his feelings were still hurt and close to the skin's surface. He had hoped a few days away from Jackie would help, and they did. But now that he was back home he suddenly felt like leaving again; however, he knew he'd have to face Jackie sooner or later, and from experience he reckoned that sooner was better than later.

"Jackie?" He turned on lights as he walked around the small apartment. She obviously wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, so he went to her bedroom door and knocked softly. "Jackie, you awake?" Still no response.

Turning the handle, Fez opened the door to Jackie's room and switched on the lights. Her bed was made, numerous stuffed toys holding down the floral-patterned fort. Nothing was missing or out of place, nothing obvious anyway. There was no sign of a disturbance, no sign of Jackie.

Fez sighed. She was probably staying with Donna, although that thought somehow left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Jackie and Donna weren't exactly best friends anymore; however, since Eric's return the former redhead had become less bitchy and self-centred than usual and had seemingly wanted to put more effort into her friendship with Jackie. Still, when Jackie had problems it was Fez who she turned to now, not Donna, not—

Frowning, Fez turned off the lights and quietly closed Jackie's door. He understood now why Jackie had been so upset to lose him; he really was her only friend. Ever since Hyde had returned from Las Vegas with Samantha, ever since Eric and Kelso had removed themselves from the basement, the rest of the gang had gone out of their way to alienate his princess. And by everyone, Fez meant Donna, Hyde, and Hyde's stripper wife. They never passed up an opportunity to burn the petite brunette. Sure, sometimes Jackie deserved it, and sometimes even he joined in the fun. After all, that's what the basement friendship was all about. But even Fez knew it had gone too far at times, especially when it came to Jackie.

The worst offender had been Hyde. How quickly he had gone from treating Jackie like his sunshine to some slut-faced bitch he'd rather cross the street to avoid. Albeit Hyde would have never admitted to Jackie Burkhart being his sunshine, Fez knew it to be true. He had seen, he had observed, he had stalked.

And so Fez had been the most shocked to see the sudden change in his friend, to hear that he had decided to stay married to Sam and that Donna had encouraged it. It was this shock that had made him convince Kelso to propose to Jackie and to take her in when no one else would. He really had wanted to see his bitchy goddess happy. She was his Jackie, his (arguably) prettiest best friend. And it was her surprisingly quick rejection of Kelso and numbing acceptance of Hyde leaving her for another woman that made Fez so hesitant when she vocalised her decision to pursue him.

Had she really just been interested in dating everyone in the circle? Was Eric next?

Still, Fez wasn't convinced that Jackie was over Hyde. He had seen how devoted she was to him, how much in love, even before they started fooling around. Jackie had always gone to Hyde when she was upset. He was her hero, her reluctant knight in shining armour. And Jackie wasn't the only one in love. Fez had also quietly observed how surprisingly gently and loving Hyde could be with Jackie, especially when he thought no one was paying attention. Jackie was the first girl Hyde had truly ever loved, and Fez was begrudgingly confident that she was probably the only girl the rebel burnout would ever love.

And so after seven weeks of dating, on Valentine's Day, Fez had done perhaps one of the stupidest things he had ever done in his life: he proposed to Jackie Burkhart. A part of him did it because he loved her; maybe not in the way one should love another, but it was still love, even if it was the remnants of worship.

Guiltily, he would admit that Jackie Burkhart was something like a prize, a bitchy, beautiful prize. It made him sick when he really thought about it, but it was the truth; and Fez knew he wasn't the only one who felt this way. He hadn't been lying when he told her that she had this way of making him feel like he was the centre of her universe. Fez was sure that was how Kelso had felt too, maybe even Hyde. She just had this magical pull on a guy, and Fez liked it; he craved it. But at the back of his mind Fez also knew that he didn't really have _that_ with Jackie. He wasn't quite the centre of Jackie Burkhart's universe; neither was Kelso for that matter. She hadn't accepted his proposal, but Hyde...

In the end it all came down to Steven Hyde. Hyde still had a hold on Jackie whether she wanted to admit it or not. Fez knew this; he had always known this. And after his weekend binge and talk with Kelso, Kelso admitted to knowing this too (even the stupidly pretty can be observant from time to time).

Fez realised that his actions, his rushed proposal, were due to him wanting to break that hold, to show Jackie that he was better than Hyde. Oh, he still loved and respected his friend—Steven Hyde could be the best friend a weak foreign boy could ever ask for—but Hyde could be one mean son of a bitch. All it took was for the poor orphan boy to open his heart to someone and have it bruised, have the one person he cared about and trusted the most walk out on him—for whatever reason—and Hyde would turn into the meanest bastard on the planet. Then he'd disown you in a bruised heartbeat, just like he disowned Jackie.

Fez had wanted to prove to Jackie that he was ready for a commitment, that he wasn't a Steven Hyde. And maybe, just maybe, he had been testing her with the proposal. He still wasn't sure if he was just sloppy thirds or that Jackie wasn't using him to get over Hyde. He still didn't know. But what he did know was that Jackie honestly didn't want to just marry anyone. The realisation that he was 'anyone' and not 'someone' hurt his pride; it wounded his ego. And, yeah, he had acted like a jerk. He was mad and upset and he should have seen it coming. In his heart of hearts he knew Jackie wasn't intentionally trying to use him to get over Hyde, but he did know that she wasn't over his friend, just as sure as he knew Hyde wasn't over Jackie.

But the latter was an issue beyond Fez's scope. Jackie and Hyde would have to hash things out together or on their own or not at all. It wasn't his or anyone else's problem. And while Fez wanted more than anything to go back to how things were on New Year's Eve, he knew that ship had already sailed. He had ruined it by proposing and getting angry at her answer.

She was right; they were too young and he wasn't even sure if he wanted to get married. Like Jackie, Fez didn't want to be alone and it made sense to be alone _together_ with your best friend rather than, you know, _alone_ alone. But Jackie had been smarter than him, more sure of what she wanted or didn't want. And he would have to respect her decision and hope that she would accept him back into her life, because she was one of his best friends.

Fez stood back from the door and tried to stifle a yawn, his jaw cracking from the strain. He turned around and retreated to his own bedroom. He would see Jackie tomorrow and they could talk things out rationally after work. They would have a nice meal, share a bottle of wine and maybe a bowl of candy, and he would apologise for his behaviour. Right now, though, he would go to bed and try to catch up on his sleep from the weekend—not noticing the soft blinking red light on the answering machine in the living room.

**.**

**.**

**.**

THE CLOCK MECHANICALLY ticked away.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Time was just another sound he had forgot, another one of his senses lost. He had forgot the taste of happiness, the sight of hope; he had forgot the feel of love lying in his arms and the sun beating on his heart. It was all slipping away from him now, like sand running through the cracks of his fingers.

_Time_. Time was what he needed more of—more with her, more with himself; to figure out where it all went wrong. He couldn't turn back time, couldn't escape its cruelty, its ravages of innocent youth. It changed everything and everyone. It had become his chaos, unpredictable and unforgiving.

Hyde never realised before how excruciating it was to just sit back and let time flow by, hoping the wounds would somehow heal. He had no idea how slowly and deliberately time would crawl, how feelings wouldn't change no matter how hard he tried to drown them in his own brand of poison. And as each second passed, the unconsidered and unfathomable dread of what he foolishly hoped to obtain (or lose, depending on how one looked at it) only seemed to drift further and farther away. His heart had woefully remained intact, bruised and bloodied beneath his skin, but still beating.

That damn heart of his—the one that refused to completely freeze over, the one that hid behind bruises that ran too painful and too deep, sliding from limb to limb beneath his skin. A heart and a feeling trapped in time, refusing to let go, to let _her_ go.

But it was his own fault; he had let her chip away at his walls, had let her blur the lines between what he wanted and what he could never have. He was still feeling the repercussions of it, of her love, for bad and worse, long after he was sober. In the end he was still the same man who had said 'I love you'; no amount of time and drugs could ever cover up that fact, could ever change his past. And even though that was exactly what he wanted, to forget her completely, he was still reaching out for her, still trying to find her hand in the watery mist—

**.**

JACKIE SURFACED. SOMEONE had pulled her up from the depths.

She was still swimming in those turbulent silver waters, but his blue eyes had found her and she swam towards them. Every time he looked at her she could swear that he was looking deeper than before, as if he was shedding her skin, exposing her vulnerabilities all the way to the bone. And she worried that if he looked deep enough that he'd end up shedding away everything she had ever learnt to protect herself and he would see the tiny black spots of weakness that lay at the centre of her heart.

Worst of all, maybe he would end up seeing the reasons why she was so selfish and spoilt, why she demanded so much from him all the time; the reasons why she took so much care to point out how beautiful and amazing she was, the reasons why she went to even greater lengths to distract everyone from the real her, _the real Jackie_. And she wondered if she would ever be ready to show that side of herself to anyone. But more than that Jackie feared that he already knew; he already knew and he didn't care.

**.**

**.**

**.**


	4. Fire and Rain

A/N: Title and italicised lyric at the end by James Taylor. *sighs* I've never spliced lyrics into my stories before, but I seem to be doing that on a regular basis with this one. Normally I'd be disgusted with myself, but I did say this story would be clichéd on several levels. So here's another fanfiction cliché—surprise! \o/ I make no excuses and give no apologies, only the half-arsed explanation that I'm trying something new and hope it works (or at least isn't too annoying). :3

* * *

Fire and Rain

**.**

**.**

**.**

_18 February 1980  
Milwaukee, Wisconsin  
Columbia St Mary's Hospital_

**.**

**.**

"HOW'S OUR JANE Doe doing, Doc?"

"She's stable. Was in critical condition when she got here Thursday night; touch and go a few times over the weekend."

"Can we question her?"

"I'm afraid not. She's still in a coma. We tried to relieve the pressure on her brain, removed the excess blood and induced clotting. The swelling on her left lobe has gone down considerably, but she persists in her current state."

"Will she recover?"

"It's hard to say with brain injury cases. She could wake up in a few days and be perfectly fine... or not. Or she could never wake up at all."

"I see."

"She flat-lined last night, and we have no clear idea why. It'd help if we had her medical history. Still no identification?"

"Nada. Couldn't find anything on her person, in her purse, or even in the car. We could've run the plates, if she had any. We ran her fingerprints once she got out of surgery on Friday, but no hits on file. No one's been asking around, either."

"Well, it could take time. She wasn't the only girl brought into the ICU that night, and that was just for this hospital alone. No telling where she came from, how far she'd been travelling, who's waiting for her at home..."

"Poor girl. Doesn't seem right. Who wouldn't be looking for her? She's just a little doll. Someone out there has to be missing her."

"I hope you're right."

**.**

**.**

**.**

HYDE HAD JUST settled himself into his chair with a beer after a long day of hardly working when Fez burst through the basement door.

"Hyde! Is Jackie here?" The foreigner looked frazzled; his normally perfect attire was rumpled and his hair was askew, as though he had been tearing it out of his head.

"What? No," Hyde muttered, managing to lace his tone with disgust. He wasn't Jackie's keeper anymore. It wasn't his concern where she was or what she was doing.

Fez slumped down in the lawn chair and began running his fingers through his hair. Hyde noted his friend's anxious appearance with a slight frown. His jacket was undone and he was almost doubled over on the chair, breathing heavily and still pulling at his hair. When he glanced up at the sound of someone descending the stairs, his expression morphed from hopeful to shattering disappointment.

"Hey," Donna casually greeted, leading her boyfriend down the stairs.

"Donna!" Fez jumped to his feet, pointing a finger at the unsuspecting blonde. "Did Jackie stay with you last night?"

Donna looked back at Eric, who only shrugged. "Uh, no."

"Ai!" Fez dramatically threw himself back down onto the lawn chair. "My beloved Jackie is missing! What am I going to do?"

"Whoa, slow down." Donna was lowering her hands in a yielding fashion. "What do you mean Jackie's missing? Did you lose her?"

Eric snorted, making his way to the deep freeze to retrieve a cherry popsicle. "Sure, she's tiny and everything, but there's no way you could lose Jackie with that mouth of hers."

"Forman's right," Hyde deadpanned, taking a sip from his beer. "I tried to lose her at The Hub once, but she found her way back home."

"Shut up, you sonuvabitch!" Fez snapped, causing the three to turn and regard the foreigner in mild shock. "I'm telling you she's gone, not here anymore! Missing!"

"Fez, relax," Donna placated. "She's probably just out shopping."

"No, she couldn't be."

Eric looped his foot over the back of the couch and sat. "Uh, Fez, you do know we're talking about Jackie here, right?"

"Yes, I do, you idiot!"

Donna shared a confused look with her boyfriend. She had never seen their foreign friend this upset before. "Fez, settle down."

"I will not! My Jackie is missing and none of you sons and daughters-of-bitches care!"

Now he had crossed the line.

"Fez, you need to calm the fuck down," Hyde threatened, his ire igniting at his friend's tone. No chick was worth getting this upset over. It was just Jackie and she was probably out shopping like Donna had said. "Jackie'll turn up eventually, man. She always does."

"But she has been gone for so long!"

Hyde set his beer down on the table a little too hard, causing the amber liquid to splash up and splatter onto his hand. "You two really are joined at the friggin' hip, aren't you?" He wiped off the beer and tried to slip back into Zen, but Jackie and Fez's co-dependency was really starting to piss him off. "You're not Siamese twins. You're not gonna die being separated for a few hours."

"But it has been more than a few hours." Fez nervously licked at his lips. "I have not seen Jackie since Thursday."

"Thursday?" Hyde opened his mouth to ask the question before his brain could tell him to shut it.

"We, uh, had a fight," Fez began, only to have Donna cut him off with a half-amused, half-offended laugh.

"On Valentine's Day?"

"Ai!" Fez groaned, clutching at his head. "And now my desert rose is missing!"

Donna and Eric exchanged glances while Fez sobbed quietly into his hands. Frustrated, Hyde kicked out his leg and upset the table, startling them. Crying and looking at each other wasn't going to solve shit.

"You haven't seen her since Thursday?" Hyde was thankful that his sunglasses hid what he didn't want the others to see. "Why didn't you tell us sooner, man?"

"I went to Kelso's for the weekend," Fez explained feebly, wiping away tears. "I did not get back until late last night, and when she wasn't home I—I thought she was staying with you." He looked up at Donna, who only shook her head morosely.

"Christ." Hyde ran his fingers through his curly 'fro. The memory of what he had last said to Jackie replayed in his head.

"What should I do?" Fez was looking at Hyde for answers. They all were, which only made Hyde curse louder.

Jackie was probably fine. She was most likely off gallivanting somewhere to punish Fez. But the uneasy, churning feeling settling in his gut and the nagging voice persisting at the back of his mind was suggesting otherwise. Goddammit! He wasn't even dating the girl anymore and she was still his problem to look after.

"You and I—" Hyde pointed at the foreigner "—are gonna go to your apartment and see if we can find any clues as to where she went." And if they were lucky, Jackie would be there. "Donna—" he pointed at the blonde "—you let Mrs Forman know what's going on and see if she can get a hold of Pam."

Donna nodded and immediately took off up the stairs.

"What about me? What should I do?" Eric asked, still seated on the back of the sofa.

Hyde and Fez responded by taking off out the basement door, leaving their skinny friend alone. Eric absently tapped at his knee with a free hand and shrugged.

"I'll just wait here, then. In case she shows up."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"HELLO? HELLO! IS anyone out there?"

Jackie was screaming, calling out for someone to save her. She was lost; out on the edge of a world she didn't understand but was unmistakably her own. She was swimming towards a shore that was constantly out of reach, searching for the man with the blue eyes. But no one was there; no one was coming for her. She was alone, all alone.

Forever alone.

Suddenly her entire body was singing, vibrating all at once as her world was shaking itself apart. Everything seemed to loosen and magnify, and she could see the beautiful and terrifying awe of creation. It was overwhelming.

She put out a hand to steady herself but remembered that nothing was solid anymore, nothing was quite real—or perhaps it was too real. She was still swimming, still floating in that silver cloud of euthanasia, still searching for the shore, still seeking those blue eyes—eyes endless like the ocean, eternal like the sky. They were all she could remember of him now, all she could remember of herself...

**.**

**.**

**.**

"JACKIE!" FEZ CRIED, flicking on the hallway lights to his apartment before throwing his keys into the bowl.

Hyde had wanted to barrel past Fez the second he unlocked the door, but he had to remain Zen. Jackie wasn't his girl anymore; she was Fez's. As much as the idea confused and repulsed him, he had to respect it. Besides, there was no reason for him to get worked up over Jackie's disappearance. There was no love lost between them.

_Bye, Jackie. Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out._

He winced slightly at his own words being thrown back at him, repeating in his head, and he clenched his jaw in anger.

So what if the last words he said to her that night was basically a burn? She'd be back eventually and she wouldn't even remember or care what he had said. Jackie didn't care about him anymore. She hadn't cared that much when he had asked Sam to stay and she hadn't cared at all when Sam had left. And though he'd never admit it, that had bugged the ever-living hell out of him.

"Her room is how she left it," Fez said timidly, directing Hyde to Jackie's room.

Hyde hadn't even noticed that he was still been standing in the foyer. With a shake of his head, he ambled his way to where Fez stood, taking a peek inside Jackie's room. Nothing looked unusual or out of place. Her bed was made with a few dozen stuffed animals taking up residence on the folded quilt at the end.

"You sure you haven't heard from her since Thursday, man?" Hyde asked, noting the caged and slightly panicked look in his friend's eyes.

Fez wrung his hands. "I am sure. We had a fight and I, uh—I asked her something I shouldn't have, said some things I didn't mean, and I was so angry that I left for Kelso's right away." He was speaking so quickly that Hyde could barely catch every other word. "But she was here before I left for Chicago."

Said something he shouldn't have? Hyde leaned back against the doorframe. "Pam isn't in town, is she?"

"I don't think so." Fez shrugged. "Even if she was, she'd never visit Jackie here."

Hyde nodded and wiped his hand over his mouth. If Jackie wasn't with her mother, then where could she be? Hesitantly, he stepped into her room. He had never been in here before, never wanted to step foot inside Fez's apartment with Jackie around. But now he had no choice.

"Looks like she wrote something down." He pointed at the pen and pad of paper on her desk. "Maybe she met up with someone."

"I will get a pencil and rub out the etching!" Fez exclaimed excitedly, searching through Jackie's drawers for a pencil.

"Yeah, you do that, Dr Quincy," Hyde muttered.

He stepped out of the room and exhaled. He was starting to breathe a little easier. But then those cold fingers of nausea curled into his stomach again, signalling trouble. He made his way into the living room, and that's when he noticed a small red light blinking on the coffee table next to the sofa. He walked towards it with a grimace.

"Hey, I'm gonna press this PLAY button here on your answering machine."

Fez's head popped out from the doorway just as Hyde pressed down on the button. After a second, the machine beeped and a woman's voice came on:

_"Hello, this message is for Jacqueline Burkhart. It's 9:35 AM on Friday, February the 15th. This is Gloria West calling from Mr Thompson's office at News 4, WTMJ-TV. Miss Burkhart, we were expecting you at the scheduled time for your interview this morning, but since you have not arrived we're afraid we are going to have to disqualify you for candidacy. We're very sorry, but dereliction is something we do not condone here at News 4. We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavours and have a pleasant weekend. Bye-bye now."_

The answering machine beeped one last time, and the red blinking light disappeared.

_So that was why Jackie had been looking for Donna_, Hyde thought to himself. _To tell her about her interview_. "Sounds like she didn't show up," he said to Fez, but his friend didn't seem to be listening; he was staring off into space. "News 4; that is in Milwaukee, isn't it?" Fez shrugged in response, still in a daze.

Hyde cursed to himself. Well, Fez was useless, or more useless than usual. So what if Jackie hadn't shown up for an interview in Milwaukee—four days ago. That didn't have to mean something bad happened. She could have still been in the city, sulking 'cause she had missed her big break.

Hyde's thoughts turned sour and he grimaced. There was no way Jackie would have missed an interview for such a big TV station, no way would she have turned down an opportunity like that. Not again. But then what could have happened? Did she get called away by someone else—maybe by her mother or a relative? No, that didn't make any sense.

He had seen her that night, watched her take off out of the basement in a huff. Wait a sec—Thursday? It had been raining that night, _freezing_ rain. And he had yelled at her, yelled at her to go.

Hyde swallowed painfully, feeling the cold bile rise to his throat. "Fez, man—I think it's time we call the cops."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"SHE COULD HAVE just decided to go on a mini vacation."

"With what money, Forman?" Hyde snarked, sitting back into his chair. He and Fez had raced back to the Formans with the news, and Kitty had gone straight to the phone while Red drove to the police station. More than an hour had gone by as the gang waited impatiently in the basement. "Besides, there's no way Jackie would have missed that interview."

"Hyde is right," Fez agreed, moving from the lawn chair to the sofa beside Donna. He pulled out a bag of candy from his jacket pocket and began stuffing his face with abandon. Hyde was surprised he had lasted this long without sweets. Between the chewing and soft sobbing Fez managed to blubber, "I can't believe she was going to leave me for a job in Milwaukee!"

Donna rolled her eyes and shared an uncomfortable look with Eric over the top of Fez's head while Hyde crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fez, uh, maybe that's not the most important issue right now," Eric suggested, and the foreigner nodded sadly.

"You are right, Eric. It is just that I am so worried. What if she got into an accident?" He glanced over at Hyde. "It was freezing rain that night, didn't you say?"

Hyde nodded mutely, and the room went silent.

"Well, at least we have Nurse Kitty on our side." Eric motioned limply with his hands. "She's having her people call their people to check out all the hospitals in the Milwaukee area."

"Her people call their people?" Donna repeated with an upturned eyebrow.

There was a loud noise, the sound of metal grating against polished cement, as Hyde roughly pushed back on his chair. He stood to his feet.

"I don't like this, man." He was pacing back and forth towards the deep freeze. "If Jackie were in a hospital or—" he couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence "—whatever, man, we'd know by now. The police would have contacted Pam or left a message on Fez's machine. And Mrs Forman would have found Jackie hours ago just by asking for her by name."

Donna shifted in her seat. "What are you saying, Hyde?"

Everyone's eyes were on him and for the second time that night Hyde was thankful for his shades. His tongue darted along his upper lip and he lifted his hand to the back of his neck for a moment before folding his arms across the chest.

"What if she didn't get in an accident?" He shrugged, elbows pointing outwards. "What if—what if someone took her?"

"No!" Fez was on his feet. The bag of candy tumbled off his lap and spilled onto the floor; a rainbow of colours staining the rug. "Shut your mouth!"

"But, Fez—"

"I said _shut your mouth_, you sonuvabitch! Don't say things like that!"

"Fez, man." He was licking at his lips again, a nervous habit. He didn't like saying this anymore than anyone else liked hearing it, but dammit if this wasn't a very real possibility. Someone had to say it. "If they can't find her, then—"

"What if she wasn't carrying any ID?" Donna cut in, trying to stop Hyde from finishing his sentence. She knew he wasn't trying to upset Fez—he was merely saying what they were all thinking or what they didn't want to be thinking about. It still didn't mean that any of them needed those dark thoughts vocalised. Donna couldn't deal with the mental image of someone taking Jackie, hurting her, doing _things_ to her...

"Yeah, what if she lost it or left it somewhere?" Eric added optimistically. "Or maybe her wallet got stolen?" Both Fez and Donna nodded at this, but Hyde only shook his head.

"Naw, man. They'd still be able to find out who she was."

Fez's brow creased in confusion. "How?"

"Her license plates, man."

"Oh," he muttered, and then his eyes widened. "_Oh_!"

Everyone turned to look at Fez.

"What is it?" Donna eyed the foreigner as he began to wring his hands in nervous apprehension.

"Jackie only bought her car last week. She hadn't got new plates for them." He licked at his dry lips. "She was supposed to pick them up in Kenosha, but I guess she forgot."

"Fuck!" Hyde curled his hands into fists and punched at his thighs. How the hell were they supposed to find her now? She could be hurt, kidnapped, or dead, and fuck it all if they would ever know what happened to her. Ever.

Hyde released his fists and stormed towards the basement door. He couldn't stand around here waiting for a call that wasn't going to come. Grabbing his coat, he slammed the door shut behind him and angrily bounded up the steps. He was going to get in the El Camino and drive. He was going to drive to Milwaukee and look—fuck, he didn't know where to look, but he'd scour the entire Goddamn city if he had to, until he found her and brought her home.

Just as he reached his car, Red pulled into the driveway and parked alongside Hyde. At the sight of his foster son about to unlock the door to his El Camino, Red's face darkened. He switched off the ignition and slowly stepped out of the Toyota, his eyes still trained on Hyde. He had obviously just returned from the police station; the haggard look on his face and the angry way he carried himself like he was ready to shove a foot up someone's ass suggested that the visit didn't go well. It was apparent that the Point Place police knew dick-all about Jackie's whereabouts.

"You!" he barked, pointing a gnarled finger at Hyde. "I don't know whether you're taking off to find her or you're just taking off, but you're going to go back inside and sit with the rest of those dumbasses and wait for news like a damn grown-up." Red's eyes narrowed. "You got that?"

"Yeah." Hyde slipped his keys back inside his pocket, and Red's brow lifted a fraction of an inch.

"Yeah?"

Hyde cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I mean yes, sir."

Red grunted irritably in response, following Hyde as he headed back towards the basement. He then rolled his eyes and looked heavenwards. "Goddamn kids."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"I'M REALLY WORRIED, you guys," Donna said, as she descended the basement stairs with a mug of coffee in her hand. Kitty had been brewing pots like she was waiting for the entire Point Place police department to show up. "Mrs Forman still hasn't found anyone fitting Jackie's description."

Kitty had called the Point Place Hospital director, and he had immediately reached out to every hospital in the Kenosha and Milwaukee areas. That had been more than three hours ago. Everyone was still waiting by the phone for the call, with Kitty cursing at any unsuspecting caller who accidentally held up her line. By this point nerves were raw and frayed, but none more openly than Fez's.

"Well, it took you long enough!" he snapped at the blonde, stuffing a Tootsie Roll into his mouth.

Donna's brow almost disappeared into her hairline. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you know what that means!" he sniped. "It means that it takes Jackie to go missing or, _¡__Dios no lo quiera!_, for her to get hurt before you give a damn!"

"Fez, that's not fair. I give a damn. I just—hey, you said you two got into a fight, so I just thought she took off. She does that sort of thing, y'know!"

"How would _you_ know? How would you know how she reacts when she is upset? You weren't the one holding her hand when this train wreck—" Fez motioned violently to Hyde "—barrelled out of her life. _I_ was the one there picking up the pieces, not you! You were too busy sticking your tongue down the new guy's throat and making friends with the stripper whore and her powder blue Trans Am!"

"She didn't seem that upset!" Donna shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Randy in Eric's presence. "And, hey, you liked Sam. You practically drooled over her every time you saw her. Actually I'm pretty sure you did!" She looked over her shoulder at Hyde for support, but he only stared at the muted TV with his arms folded rigidly across his chest.

"Donna, I am a man," Fez said patronisingly. "Whores are whores, and Fez loves his whores." A sad look crept into his dark eyes. "But Jackie was upset and I was not Jackie's best friend. You were."

"I—" Donna opened her mouth, but the air seemed to deflate from her lungs. Setting her coffee down on the table, she exhaled loudly before slumping down on the sofa. "You're right."

"Of course I am."

"God, what is wrong with me?" Donna leaned forward, allowing her face to be swallowed up by her hands. "Jackie is self-centred and annoying but she has always been there for me, like when Eric left me—_twice__._"

"Hey," Eric interjected nervously with a wave of his hands. "Let's not make this about me. This is about _you_ betraying Jackie."

"Ugh. I couldn't even give her a reason why she was my friend when Sam had asked," Donna added with a groan, ignoring Eric entirely.

_What?_ Hyde shifted slightly in his seat, his attention finally diverted from the television.

"Look, let's not fight about this." Eric settled down beside his girlfriend. "We're only going to work ourselves up, and this isn't about us." He looped an arm over Donna's shoulder and pulled her in close so that her head could rest beneath his chin. "Maybe it's time we called Kelso."

Donna turned her head up at Eric. "Shouldn't we wait until we find out something more concrete? Knowing Kelso, if we were to tell him now he'd rush over here and get into an acci—" She stopped herself short and shut her eyes.

"We cannot use the phone, anyway," Fez added dejectedly. "Mrs Kitty snarls at anyone who comes near it."

Suddenly the phone rang, and everyone jumped in their seats. Kitty had obviously picked up the moment the phone rang because it didn't ring again. The gang then turned towards the stairs, listening and waiting. After a few agonising minutes the door to the basement finally opened and Mrs Forman came running down the stairs.

"That was the director," Kitty announced, as everyone stood up to nervously greet her. "There is no one listed as Jackie Burkhart in any of the hospitals in the greater Kenosha or Milwaukee areas, or the state for that matter." She laughed nervously and frowned at herself before waving two slips of paper in the air. "But I got a list of all the Jane Does admitted around the same time Jackie left."

"Jane Does?" Fez asked.

"Jane Doe is what they call a woman who doesn't have any identification," Kitty said, nervously twisting the pieces of paper in her hands.

_Usually a dead woman who has yet to be identified_, Hyde thought grimly to himself.

"Here is the list for Kenosha and this one is for Milwaukee." Kitty handed the slips of paper to Donna. "You're going to have to split up." She pointed at the paper. "There are a few places to check out."

"What about you and Dad?" Eric asked, coming up behind Donna as he stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets.

"We're going to stay here and wait for the police to call if they find anything." Mrs Forman gave her son a thin smile and tapped at the papers in Donna's hands, as if to indicate that they better get a move on, before turning up the stairs.

Hyde watched Kitty go, catching her eyes as she reached the top of the landing. He held her gaze for a second, noting the worried and sympathetic look etched in her features, and turned away. The door shut behind her and he clenched his fists in sad anger. Fuck, this couldn't have been good if Mrs Forman looked like she had just asked them to drown some new-born puppies.

"Okay," Donna began, immediately taking charge, "we'll split up into three groups."

"I do not want to be by myself!" Fez whispered, shoving more candy into his gullet.

"You can come with us, Fez," Eric suggested, his eyes flickering to Hyde. His best friend was standing against the deep freeze with his hands balled into tight fists. If Fez was left in his company, the foreigner was likely to die.

"We'll take Kenosha." Donna then walked over to Hyde. "Hyde, you can head straight to Milwaukee and we'll meet you there."

She handed him the slip of paper and their fingers briefly touched. Hyde glanced up and met Donna's eyes, catching the stern look she was giving him. This wasn't a request; it was an order.

He baulked inwardly, feeling a twinge of guilt and resentment at her silent insinuation. Did she really think that he wouldn't want to help find Jackie? A brief image of Jackie slipping into the creek while he laughed and walked away flitted through his mind, and his stomach tightened into knots. He nodded curtly and took the slip of paper from her hand.

"So, how are we gonna do this?" Eric clapped his hands together. "How are we gonna meet up in Milwaukee?"

"We can coordinate with your mom," Donna suggested. "Call her to tell we've already checked out a place and so forth."

Eric shook his head. "She wants to keep the phone line open, just in case."

"We can call WB," Hyde offered, "and leave messages with him."

"Good idea!" Donna then asked Hyde for WB's number and found a pen, jotting it down on her list. Glancing over at the piece of paper that was still folded in Hyde's hand, she pointed at it with her pen. "We should make a copy of the Milwaukee list. When we get into the city, we'll start from the bottom up. Hyde, you'll start from the top down."

Hyde unfolded the piece of paper, and Donna saddled up beside him.

"Okay, so the first place you've got is—"

Both Donna and Hyde looked at the first name on the list with dawning horror. Donna closed her eyes and turned away while Hyde crumpled the paper in his hand.

_Fuck!_

**.**

**.**

**.**

THE WORST THING was not having a name for what she was feeling right now. She wasn't even sure if it was a feeling. It was something bigger, something too huge for her conscious mind to grasp or her subconscious to put into words. So for now she labelled it a feeling—a feeling with no end and no beginning, just a humming buzz of uncertainty.

But the one thing certain was that this was nothing like she had ever felt before, like the long days that seemed to fold themselves effortlessly into weeks and years as if they were paper cranes hanging in the void. And instinctively she felt as if this was an end... _her end_.

**.**

**.**

**.**

THE DRIVE TO Milwaukee had been the longest hour of his life. But walking down this grey sterilised mile was easily the most difficult, most agonising moment of Steven Hyde's existence.

Instinctively, he felt as if this was an end; the end of his Zen stone in an endless pool of ripples, the end of the days when he would wait and react, foreseeing every move on the chessboard of life with burning lucidity. But what the fuck did he know anymore? When did he ever know?

He stood rigidly in front of the covered window, sliding off his aviators and clipping them into the collar of his shirt with a shaky sigh. His Zen was gone now. It had abandoned him.

A man in a white lab coat stood next to him and unceremoniously cleared his throat, his finger hovering over the intercom button. "Are you ready?"

_Fuck no!_ Hyde swallowed hard, a dry audible click at the back of his throat. Then he gave an imperceptible nod and winced as the man in the white lab coat pressed down harshly on the intercom button. Crackling white static spoke first then gave way to the inevitable silence.

"We're ready."

Click.

_Are you ready?_

_No. I'll never be ready for this._

The curtain swiftly shunted open, making Hyde's decision for him.

**.**

_I've seen fire and I've seen rain  
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end  
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend  
But I always thought that I'd see you, baby, one more time again_

**.**

**.**

**.**


	5. Don't Let the Sun Go Down

A/N: Sun and sunshine metaphors were inspired by Lisa's (MistyMountainHop's) very entertaining T7S comics. (Although Hyde won't be hiccupping rainbows in this fic; sorry.) Title and italicised lyrics by Sir Elton John.

* * *

Don't Let the Sun Go Down (on Me)

**.**

**.**

**.**

_19 February 1980  
Milwaukee, Wisconsin  
Milwaukee County Morgue and Medical Examiner_

**.**

**.**

IT FELT LIKE there wasn't enough air in his lungs. His body refused to collect the oxygen the way it was supposed to, couldn't direct it down the right tubes, couldn't expel the carbon dioxide quickly enough.

The medical examiner on the other side of the glass window brought his hands to the top of the blue sheet and began to peel it downwards. For a moment Hyde stood completely still, frozen in place with every muscle in his body seemingly locked as his mind screamed in helpless silence. The blue sheet was folded neatly above the woman's breasts, exposing the V line of the purple sutured Y incision. Her body was unnaturally stiff like a mannequin's; her lifeless eyes were closed and her cold face was pale, greyish-blue in hue; oily, raven dark hair was slicked back behind her head, the tips pooling near her shoulders.

"It's not her," he heard himself say, as a stinging sensation hit the back of his eyes.

The man in the white lab coat standing next to him pressed down on the intercom button and spoke words that Hyde didn't hear. His eyes flickered back to the medical examiner on the other side of the glass, watching his gloved hands return to the blue sheet and drape it back over the nameless woman's face. Hyde turned away sharply, balling his hands into fists that he held tightly at his sides as he waited for the wave of nausea to pass.

Christ, of course he'd be the one sent to the morgue—to identify the raped and the murdered, to find Jackie in the cold, seedy underbelly of the city. He had been playing over a mantra inside his head that the girl on that slab wasn't his girl, and he had never been so relieved and repulsed all at once when the cold dead face revealed to him wasn't Jackie's. He had almost sighed in relief—in fact he had a little—but the thought that he'd have to do this again only made his stomach roll in mutinous waves.

The medical examiner, who was probably used to people getting upset over seeing dead bodies, motioned Hyde towards the washroom, but the young man just shrugged him off. He had to get the fuck out of there. Now.

Taking off down the hall towards the exit, Hyde reached for a pack of cigarettes as he walked. His hand was shaking uncontrollably as he brought a cigarette to his lips. He felt like an addict suffering from withdrawal. As he rounded the corner, the girl behind the reception desk made a tsking noise at the sight of him and pointed at a sign. But Hyde just ignored her and took out his lighter, barrelling through the doors and out into the cold early morning air.

Once outside, he inhaled sharply through his nose, the unlit cigarette still dangling from his lips. But the fresh air did nothing to calm or invigorate him. Instead, his stomach knotted painfully and an acidic liquid bubbled up his oesophagus; shortly thereafter he was doubled over, spilling the contents of last night's dinner, a gallon of coffee, and his cigarette onto his boots and the asphalt below.

After another round and a few more of dry-heaving, his stomach stopped clenching and he spat the rancid taste of bile from his mouth. He stood up and shakily wiped his hand across his mouth. He considered taking out another cigarette but decided against it. Instead he fished his keys from his jeans pocket and haphazardly made his way across the street to his car like a man in a drunken stupor.

The sun was already beginning to rise in the East, blanketing the city with a soft orange glow. He inhaled a frosty gulp of air and exhaled slowly, a feathery mist marking his breath as his lips turned numb. He rubbed his freezing hands together for warmth, the cool metal of the keys impeding his progress, and caught his reflection in the shiny black chrome of the El Camino. With a grimace, he slipped his aviators back onto his face and opened the door.

He suddenly felt terribly old.

**.**

**.**

**.**

THE TRAFFIC WAS heavy on the route to Highway 41 North out of Kenosha. The roads were already congested with early morning commuters, and Eric felt a rare wave of road-rage wash over him as a middle-aged woman in a grey sedan cut him off while simultaneously applying her make-up.

"Wanna leave some road for the rest of us!" he bellowed, waving his fist in the air before slamming it down on the wheel.

Donna shifted slightly in the passenger seat, noting the annoyed look in her boyfriend's eyes. They had just left Memorial Hospital with no sign of Jackie; not even close. In fact, the Jane Doe had turned out to be an escaped mental patient in her early thirties. Donna had a feeling that the majority of the women 'fitting' Jackie's description would just be any old woman with no identification. It would be a wild goose chase with no goose. And the thought that they wouldn't find her friend made her feel sick to her stomach.

"Hey, Donna—" the ire in Eric's tone had been replaced with something akin to hesitancy "—what was the first place on the list you gave to Hyde?"

The blonde visibly shook, startled by Eric's question. Then her stomach rebelled in remembrance and she swallowed hard, looking up at the rear-view mirror to check on Fez. His face was turned towards the window, staring off into the unknown distance.

"The county morgue," she whispered, hoping the foreigner's attention was wholly fixed elsewhere, like on that invisible moving spot outside the Vista Cruiser.

"Oh." Eric's grip on the wheel tightened, and he licked his lips. "Uh, are we—are all the places like that on the Milwaukee list?"

"No." Donna shook her head, threading her bottom lip with her teeth. "Most of them are hospitals." _Most of them_.

"So there will be, uh, live people, then?"

She nodded mutely.

"Car accidents?"

Donna shrugged. "I dunno. Your mom didn't write down the grisly details."

Eric nodded and inhaled sharply, his eyes still trained on the road. "Man, I really hope Hyde didn't have any luck with his first search."

"Me too."

"What are you two talking about?"

Donna turned at the sound of Fez's voice while Eric eyed his friend from the rear-view mirror. "Directions, man," he answered. "Donna's giving me directions for the next hospital."

Donna shot him a grateful look while Fez nodded dumbly.

"I should have never fought with Jackie," he said a voice that no longer held any real emotion. He had spent his tears hours ago, and now he was a shallow husk of the person they once knew.

"What did you two fight about?" Donna asked, hoping to spark some life back into her friend.

"I asked her to marry me."

Both Donna and Eric exchanged glances before simultaneously shouting, "You WHAT?"

"I asked her to marry me," Fez repeated. "What, were you two not listening?"

"Yeah, we were, but—" Eric gestured lamely with his hands before settling them back down on the wheel "—Donna, help me out here."

His girlfriend just laughed and turned around completely to face Fez. "So, why the fight? Was the diamond not big enough?"

Eric snorted at this, but Fez merely shook his head. "She said no."

"Jackie said NO?" Donna was gripping the shoulder of her seat as though she were about to rip it off. "No way!" Her brow furrowed in serious contemplation. "But wait—I don't get it. If she said no, then why the fight? I mean aside from the obvious."

"Yeah, Fez," Eric piped in, looking at his friend in the rear-view mirror. "You guys have only been dating for little of a month. I wouldn't think you two were ready for marriage."

"Says the man who ran out on his own wedding," Donna said with a raised brow.

"I'm not ready; we're not ready. Whatever," Fez mumbled, clearly frustrated. "I don't know what I was thinking. I was scared I'd lose her."

"Lose her?" Donna shook her head, perplexed. "Fez, you're like her ideal guy. She made a list and everything!"

"And yet she cannot imagine herself marrying me," Fez retorted grumpily.

"Well, maybe not now. But that's a good thing, Fez."

"Yeah," Eric added. "You don't want the marriage-crazy Jackie."

"I suppose." Fez turned back towards the window. "It would be nice if she actually _wanted_ to marry me, though."

"Wait, so let me get this straight." Donna had her hands raised in the air and her head cocked to the side. She was in full analysis-mode. "You proposed, she said no; you admit that you might not be ready for marriage in the first place and you really only asked because you thought she'd leave you or whatever. So why the fight?"

Fez swivelled to face Donna, his expression sheepish. "I may have told her that Hyde was right—that she made men stupid."

"Damn," Eric murmured with a shake of his head. "Even I'm not that stupid, and I've said some pretty stupid things in my time."

Fez groaned, cupping his face in his hands. "Ai, I know! I am such an idiot!"

"Yeah, you are," Donna agreed, a hint of disgust lacing her tone.

"What Donna really means to say is don't beat yourself up over it, Fez. Let Jackie do that for you." Eric offered his friend a thin smile. "Cause when we find Jackie—and we will—you can apologise and grovel accordingly." He then cast a nervous glance his girlfriend's way. "Right, Donna?"

The blonde blinked twice and nodded. "Yeah, right. Jackie'll be tearing you a new one for sure, Fez."

"You think so?" His tone was hopeful, almost saccharine. "That would be lovely." Fez took in deep breath and smiled. "Thank you, my friends. I really hope you are right."

Eric silently turned the Vista Cruiser onto the Highway 41 North exit to Milwaukee while Donna watched the vehicles and the scenery whiz by.

So did they.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"I'M AFRAID YOU wasted a trip," the doctor with the harelip informed Hyde matter-of-factly. "The former Jane Doe was identified and released early Monday morning." When the curly-haired young man shifted into an aggressive stance, the cleft palate doctor shrugged uncomfortably and held up his clipboard like his last line of defence. "Sometimes it takes a while for the information to register in the system.

Frustrated, Hyde exhaled sharply through his nose. The muscle in his jaw spasmed erratically as he tried to control his flaring temper. It wasn't the doctor's fault that he had visited three places already, two of them morgues, and had found no trace of Jackie. He had felt relieved that the two dead women he had identified were not Jackie, but this other girl was alive and, well, he had been holding onto the slim hope that she was his Jackie. But now that hope was shattered and there were few places left to visit on his list, and he suspected that none of them would pan out the way he wanted.

Mumbling curt words of thanks, Hyde turned around and headed for the door, any door. His shoulders slumped forward in defeat. He was so tired he was walking in a circle, not entirely sure where he was or where he was going. A few seconds later he found himself standing in a waiting area. The furniture here looked old but comfortable. Hell, one step above a muddy ditch would be like the Plaza Hotel to Hyde right now.

With tiredness and lethargy stealthily seeping into his bones, he dropped himself into a chair with plush green seating. Off to his right, parked next to a soft-drink machine, were the payphones. He knew he should get up and use one of those phones, call WB and leave a message for Forman and the others, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He just didn't have the energy.

_I'm growing tired  
And time stands still before me_

His thoughts drifted to Jackie.

The days since he had last seen her somehow seemed much longer than what was real. The hours since she had gone missing had stretched out, agonising and jarring like shards of broken glass beneath bare feet. A brief image of her sitting on his lap, her eyes looking down into his with such warmth and love, flashed through his mind and he winced inwardly as if in physical pain. He didn't want to be thinking about that now; the raw heat of the memory juxtaposed with the cold reality of time.

Hyde didn't want to voice his thoughts aloud, but he was beginning to worry that Jackie wasn't in Milwaukee at all, maybe not even in the state of Wisconsin. She had dropped clean off the face of the earth as far as he was concerned. The very real thought that he'd never be able to see her again was leaving an ache in parts of him he hadn't even known existed, filling him with an unfamiliar sense of emptiness and dread. And now he was left clutching at memories that did not care to be dismissed as she silently dissolved into his bloodstream.

He leaned back in the chair and groaned, pressing a hand to his sensitive stomach. It hadn't felt right since the drive to Milwaukee—no, it hadn't been right since he found out she had been missing. Throwing up outside the morgue hadn't helped, either. He wanted to chase back the nausea and ache with a bolt of molten whiskey, straight from the bottle. He wanted to feel the alcohol burn in his throat and distract him from the burning in his stomach, in his fingers, in his head, in his heart.

He didn't want to go back out again and search for Jackie when he'd only be shown more dead bodies and lost women, and Goddammit if one of those bodies wasn't going to turn out to be hers. Cursing softly, he doubled over and held his head in his hands. Christ, he didn't want to be in this place, didn't want to be anywhere near death anymore.

Dropping his hands, he settled back into the chair with a tired sigh of defeat and flipped up the collar of his jacket. His eyelids slid shut without protest and sleep came quickly. Dreams followed soon thereafter; of hands running through a tumble of dark curls, of sweet kisses, long and hot and languid on his lips, of soft laughter vibrating against his skin. But most of all he dreamt of finding her.

**.**

**.**

**.**

THE DREAM WAS collapsing.

Everything was falling away from her; memories and thoughts spinning out of time and space. But ever-present was this feeling that she was looking for someone, or maybe he was looking for her. She tried to make out his face, but the details were a little too foggy, his body too vague where her memories failed to flesh it out. But she could sense him near, feel him dipping his face into the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

She was sighing blissfully; he had found that magic spot just behind her ear. It felt so familiar, so right. Slowly, he pulled back and their eyes met. Blue eyes—blue like the sky, like the ocean. She would never forget them, she told herself. Never.

So she closed her eyes and committed his image to memory. She would never forget. But the dream was already collapsing. It was almost time.

**.**

**.**

**.**

HIS HANDS WERE a torment to him as he slept; they would not rest. They twitched as he slumbered, shaping the words of his dreams to music. Zeppelin played over and over in his head and his hands reacted; tapping and strumming, reaching for tiny, soft hands that he had once held so often before—before all of this.

Hyde's fingers twitched as the music in his head began to sharpen in his ears, shrill and tinny and nothing at all like his dreams. He awoke in a daze, groggy with sleep. Palming his face, he glanced around and took in the décor. He was still at St Mary's Hospital. Some sort of disco crap was humming on the speakers, creating a dull beat in the background. He shifted in his chair and winced in pain. His joints were stiff and sore from the awkward position he had fallen asleep in; his right leg was tickling with the pins and needles of paraesthesia.

He looked down at his watch; he had only been asleep for twenty minutes. He was hungry and tired, more tired than he had been when he first drifted off to sleep. Glancing down at his watch again, as though it would magically read a different time, he decided he had better call WB and leave a message for Forman and the others. They were most likely on their way to Milwaukee by now, if they weren't here already. It'd be better all-around if he had them meet him here. He couldn't go see another dead body by himself again. He just didn't have the energy or the will anymore.

Smoothing his hands down his thighs, he wearily stood to his feet. He tried to shake out the pins and needles sensation in his right foot before making his way to the payphones. He yawned loudly and brought his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, pushing up his sunglasses. He'd need to buy some Tylenol; his head was killing him.

He dropped his hand from his face and fished a dime out of his jeans pocket. Pressed the money into the coin slot, he was about to dial WB's number when a busty-blonde nurse brushed past him, knocking into his shoulder. The young woman looked ready to cast Hyde a seductive smile in apology when she noticed the tired scowl on his face and decided a whispered acknowledgement might be best. He really didn't look like he was in the mood to flirt.

Once the nurse was out of sigh, Hyde turned back to the phone and tried to remember WB's number, which had, for whatever reason, temporarily abandoned his memory. As he waited for the memory to return, he overheard murmured voices from behind.

"How's your little sleeping doll doing, Paul?"

"Jane Doe? No progress yet."

"I still can't believe no one's come to claim her yet."

"Yeah. She's like Sleeping Beauty without her prince."

"I'd volunteer my services."

"Something tells me that girl has a boyfriend who wouldn't appreciate your services, Jim."

"You're probably right. A hot little thing like her probably has her own fan club."

"Hey, man," Hyde interrupted, having abandoned the payphone. He was looking back and forth between the two doctors. "You have a Jane Doe patient here?"

The younger doctor, Jim, who appeared to be in his late twenties, carefully studied Hyde and his unkempt rocker appearance with some disdain. He looked as though he was about to retort when the older doctor, Paul, interjected.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Uh, my friend went missing Thursday night." Hyde ran his fingers through his curly 'fro. "She was heading to Milwaukee for a job interview. I've—I've been looking all over for her; gone to a few hospitals, the county morgue..."

Dr Paul's interest was piqued. "Thursday night, you say?" Hyde nodded in affirmative. "Could you tell me what she looks like?"

"Real small," Hyde said somewhat excitedly, although he was trying his best not to get his hopes up. "Around five, five-foot-two; brown hair, brown eyes; real pretty."

"Sounds like our Sleeping Beauty, alright," Dr Jim said with a grin, and Hyde felt the sudden urge to pop the man in the face.

"Sleeping Beauty?"

"My young coma patient," Dr Paul explained patiently. "She arrived at the hospital late Thursday night; car accident victim."

Hyde swallowed hard. "Can I—can I see her, man?"

"Of course." The doctor, whose name tag read Dr Connors, turned and signalled for Hyde to accompany him. "Follow me."

Dr Connors then led Hyde down the brightly-lit corridor and out through a pair of doors to another section of the hospital. The walls were bare and beige, the ceiling lighting flickering with the quiet hum of fluorescence. The hallways themselves gave off a complex aroma—medical disinfectant and bitter coffee—vaguely nauseating. Hyde kept a slight distance between himself and the doctor, hesitantly following him into a darkly-lit room.

Hyde felt as if he had just entered a dream or some badly scripted drama. The room itself was buzzing with electricity and the whirling blinking of machines. There were four beds and only two were occupied; an old woman sleeping soundlessly near the door and at the back of the room near the window was a half-closed curtain portioned around a bed.

A nurse was tending to an IV bag and turned to glance up at the doctor and Hyde when they approached. Letting go of the bag, she reached for the curtain and carefully pushed it all the way back, allowing the two men to step inside. Nestled between the beeping machines was a hospital bed and on it rested the small body of a sleeping girl.

From behind the doctor, Hyde couldn't see much at first, so he hesitantly manoeuvred in front. The girl wore a powder blue hospital gown with a loosely woven yellow blanket covering her from the waist down. Her face and arms were badly bruised and scratched, both carrying some butterfly bandages, and her ribs looked to be heavily wrapped with gauze, if indicated by the way her gown fitted over her torso. Her scalp had been shaved in a spot about the size of a silver dollar just over her left ear and was dressed with a small bandage. In the spaces that were not covered or heavily bruised were small, white electrode pads attached to her skull, temples, and chest. Needles and tubes ran from her bruised inner left forearm to an IV bag while another ran from her right arm to a nearby monitoring machine. Hooked into her nostrils was a two-pronged tube that fed oxygen to her lungs; another tube, the feeding one, he presumed, hung behind her.

Her eyes were closed and puffy; her face swollen and bruised, and it seemed too surreal to be true. But underneath all that tubing and wiring was his doll, his Jackie.

"Jackie?" His voice sounded weak and timid to his own ears.

Fear spread through him like a rumour; his mind was kicking into gear, trying to register the limp, broken body lying in front of him as Jackie, _his Jackie_. He found himself caught with half his brain in the real world while the other half was trying desperately to retreat into the world of make-believe—one that did not consist of a comatose Jackie.

"Is that your friend?" the doctor asked, and Hyde nodded dumbly. "Could you tell me her name?"

"Jackie Burkhart," he rasped. He reached out to touch her but quickly pulled back. Would his touch hurt her? She looked so weak and fragile.

"Can you tell me where she lives?"

"Point Place," he answered in a daze, watching the slight rise and fall of her chest. At least she was breathing on her own.

"Wisconsin?"

He nodded again.

"Well, at least now I can finally search for her medical history."

Hyde glanced up, finally registering the doctor's words. He needed Jackie's medical history to help her. "Uh—" he cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back "—if you want that sort of information, you can call a friend of mine. She's a nurse at Point Place Hospital. Plus she knows Jackie."

"That would be great." The doctor gave Hyde a slight smile before taking a pen from his jacket pocket. "Could you give me her number?" Hyde gave him the Formans' number, and the doctor took it down, nodding his thanks before motioning to the chair next to Jackie's bed. "You can stay here, if you like."

Hyde cleared his throat again and nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, man." As the doctor was about to leave, Hyde suddenly turned. "Wait, uh... will she wake up?"

"We're not sure." The doctor shrugged. "She could wake up in a few days or a few weeks or... or not at all. The good news is that she's breathing on her own and her vitals are up. Aside from her current condition, she's in remarkably good health. It's just a matter of her brain telling her body to wake up."

The doctor gave Hyde one last nod, indicating that was all he had to say on the matter, and left the room. Hyde turned back towards Jackie and scrubbed his hand over his face. He almost couldn't bear to see her like this. Awake, she was always so full of life and energy, even when she was mad. Especially when she was mad. God how he loved to rile her up when they were together—just to see the way her eyes would light up and how her chest would heave. She was beautiful when she was angry, gorgeous when she was truly happy. But now she wasn't anything; she wasn't angry or happy or upset. She was lost and broken, and it killed him inside.

A wash of fire and ice swam through his veins, and his hands began to tremble. Jackie was alive. She wasn't dead; she wasn't being hurt by some stranger. He should feel relieved, happy even; but seeing his girl lying on a hospital bed with needles and tubes sticking out of her little body made him want to lash out. He wanted to reach down and touch her, grab her in his arms and hold her close. But she was so fragile, so bruised; like if he were to touch her she might just dissolve or shatter into a thousand pieces. So instead he grabbed the chair and pulled it up beside her bed and sat, and waited.

He sat there watching her for a minute before he finally got the courage to take her hand. It was cold and limp, and he felt a lump form at the back of his throat while he tried to coax some heat into her pale olive skin. He tried to think of something to say to her, but his mind revolted, reminding him of the last words he spoke to her before she left.

A muscle worked in his jaw and he tried very hard not to grind his teeth. The tension in his mouth worked its way down to his neck and back, extending all throughout his body. He felt like shit and, what was more, he knew he deserved to feel this way.

He sighed and turned her small hand over in his. She was so tiny, so helpless. He knew he should call the others and let them know that he finally found her, but he couldn't seem to move, couldn't will himself to stand and walk away from her. Not yet. Her hand was locked in his now, and he wasn't sure who was holding whom.

Just a little while longer, he told himself. Just a little while longer with her and then he'd call.

He leaned in close, taking off his aviators with his free hand and hooking them into the collar of his shirt. She had always preferred him this way; his eyes exposed, his face and emotions unmasked and vulnerable. And he knew she deserved this, deserved this small sacrifice of his Zen. But more than that she deserved his words—words that had never come easily to him.

_I can't find the right romantic line  
But see me once and see the way I feel_

"Hey, Jackie, it's me." He cleared his throat and glanced down at her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "You know I'm not so good with words. I'll never be _that_ guy, the one who says the right thing at the right time. In fact, I'm the opposite of that guy, the one who always seems to mess up and says something that hurts you instead."

He tried to open his mouth to speak again, but the words wouldn't come. He ran his thumb over the curve of hers and closed his eyes. Of all the times he could be struck mute; when he really had to say something important. Why couldn't he say anything? No one was around, except the old lady sleeping in the corner, and Jackie wasn't even awake to hear him. So why was this so fucking difficult? Why couldn't he just speak?

"Dammit, Jackie! I need you to wake up, okay!" He bent down and brought her tiny hand to his forehead. "I need you to say something, anything; yell at me, nag me, whatever." He took in a deep, shuddering breath and lowered her hand, gazing directly at her sleeping face.

_Don't discard me just because you think I mean you harm  
But these cuts I have, they need love to help them heal_

"You're—you're my sun, Jackie." His hand trembled in hers, feeling the pulse of her heart beat with his own. "My day can't begin unless you're there to bug me. You're that annoying glare in my eye that I can never seem to get rid of—" he smiled and brought her fingers to his lips"—that I don't want to get rid of." He kissed the small cuts on her fingertips, brushing soft lips over healing wounds. "I know lately it seems like that's all I've been trying to do—put you down, push you away.

"Alright, no 'seems' about it. I have been doing those things; I've been a real asshole to you, for a long time, and you don't deserve it. And—" he was tenderly kissing her knuckles now "—and I'm sorry, Jackie. I'm really sorry."

His eyes went to her face, her beautiful, bruised face. He swallowed painfully. This wasn't enough; it wasn't nearly enough.

"And one more thing." He licked his lips nervously. "I lied. I _did_ know." His grip on her hand tightened and he stood up so he could lean in close to her ear. "So if you wanna find out what I meant by that, Jackie, then you're gonna have to wake up. Do you hear me? You're gonna have to wake up because I'm not telling you anything more with your eyes closed."

His lips brushed along the shell of her ear, whispering her name one last time before his mouth moved to her lips, planting a delicate kiss there. Into that brief kiss he poured all of his gentleness, all of his hopes. Then he slowly pulled away and sat back down, bringing her little hand back to his head.

She couldn't leave him, not now.

_Don't let the sun go down on me_

Then Hyde did something he hadn't done since he was a child; he closed his eyes and prayed.

**.**

**.**

**.**

THE GIRL WITH no name swam through the turbulent waters, flailing and thrashing against nothing and everything until she was being lifted, soaring upwards like a cork out of a bottle, like an eagle in flight, like a Zeppelin in the sky—always ready to drop back down, always losing momentum despite herself.

Maybe she was screaming, maybe she wasn't, but her ears weren't working either way. All the sounds were mixing together, echoing back and forth, passing through the fire that was her mind. Then all of a sudden her world of illusions shattered. Her silver cloud evaporated, shrivelled, contracted with cruel speed. She could almost hear it pop, the little 'oh' that her world made when it realised she was still a part of it.

She tossed her head back and gasped, taking in the sweet air that was full of blood and life and the masculine scent of man; of jeans and cotton and the faint aroma of salt from sweat and the musk of aged wood. Something warm grasped her hand and pulled her upwards. It was like a pinch at the back of her mind, signalling for her to wake.

Hesitant eyes slowly fluttered open into tiny slits, allowing precious, blinding slivers of light to flood across her irises. She swallowed dryly, an audible click at the back of her throat. She tried to breathe through her nose but found something lodged in there, bursts of oxygen flooding her nostrils.

The hold on her hand tightened, and she feebly squeezed back. Suddenly the grip loosened, and she could hear a chair being kicked back. Still, she could not see; everything was too bright, too blurry.

"Jackie?"

Someone was speaking, jumbled words in her ears, like someone talking on the other side of a wall. Her hand moved, engulfed by someone else's—a big hand, a warm hand. Who was holding her? Was it the man whose name she could not recall?

She tried to turn her head and grimaced at the pain—physical and emotional. No longer could she see his face; it was lost to her now. His toothy boyish grin, his curly hair, his sky blue eyes—all gone. Had she imagined him?

"Jackie?" The voice was clearer now, distinctly masculine. A name was on his lips like a whisper, a butterfly kiss too beautiful for words. "Doll?"

Was this the man of her dreams? She didn't know. She could no longer recall his name or his face or the colour of his eyes. Why couldn't she remember the colour of his eyes? Had she ever known? It was all too confusing and painful. She just wanted to drift back to sleep, back into her terrifying but familiar dreams.

"I can't—" She reached out and touched his cheek; he leaned into it. She still couldn't make out his face but that expression, no matter how blurry she could sense it. He looked relieved, so grateful, but she couldn't understand why. Had someone been hurt? She tried to speak, to grasp for words or for some sort of understanding, but nothing came at first. "W-where is he? Where is he?"

The stranger's face fell. His grip on her hand loosened but he did not let go. "Fez? He'll be here soon." He turned away from her. "I'm—I'm gonna go get the doctor now."

Her hand fell from his face and she croaked a raspy, "Thanks," before shutting her eyes. _Thank you, whoever you are._

She felt his warm hand slip out of hers, and her eyes groggily opened for a few seconds. She felt a slight clenching in her chest at the loss of contact, and a small whimper escaped her throat. She tried to focus on his face before he left, to look at him properly. Did she know him? But the effort was proving to be too much and she was so very tired.

Helpless, she could only follow his blurry, retreating form before her eyelids slid shut. The cold grey fingers of unconsciousness were curling into her brain again, peeling away at one last thought:

_Who am I?_

**.**

_But losing everything is like the sun going down on me _

**.**

**.**

**.**


	6. Ruby Tuesday Redux

A/N: _Redux_ (adj) meaning brought back, revived or revisited. _Trope_ (n) meaning a common or overused theme or device (i.e. a cliché). I am abusing the heck out of the amnesia trope. Hope you're all enjoying my flagrant disregard for originality! XD Also, can you spot the BtVS reference?

* * *

Ruby Tuesday Redux

**.**

**.**

**.**

_19 February 1980  
Milwaukee, Wisconsin  
Columbia St Mary's Hospital_

**.**

**.**

BY NATURE, JACKIE Burkhart was a woman of extremes; capable of defying and denying all laws of common sense. Life with her would never be common or even the garden variety sort, no matter the circumstance. Still, there were some laws of the universe she couldn't (or hadn't yet bothered to) circumvent. And one of those was the ironclad law that any important event in Jackie's life would happen entirely by accident—and it would go spectacularly wrong.

Some called this Murphy's Law. Jackie called it Jackie's Law, and Jackie's Law was currently in full-swing. Nearly six days ago the young woman had been offered the job interview of a lifetime, and nearly six days ago she had lost control of her vehicle and careened into a tree. She had lost her interview, her consciousness, and quite possibly her mind. Well, maybe that last part was a bit of an exaggeration; she had only lost her memories. Yeah, _only_.

"Good morning."

Jackie glanced up, blinking slowly. The lights were on low in the room, but her eyesight was still adjusting to the fluorescent glare. The man who had greeted her was smiling softly, his hands clasped together and held in front. He was wearing a long white lab coat with green scrubs on underneath and a silver stethoscope hung around his neck, indicating that he was a doctor.

He was fairly tall and lean man, most likely in his late fifties, with salt and pepper hair (more salt than pepper) and light grey eyes. He had a fatherly look to him—gentle yet stern—and a no-nonsense mannerism. Standing next to him was a young woman who looked to be in her early twenties, with bleach-blonde hair and a relatively pretty face. Her smile was big and plastered and not all genuine.

"Morning," Jackie rasped. She still wasn't used to speaking, so she cleared her throat and tried to sit up. A sharp pain stabbed at her ribs and she hissed, slumping back down on the bed.

"Don't move," the doctor cautioned, leaning down to press a button that adjusted the bed's angle so that Jackie could sit up a little more comfortably. "I am Dr Connors, your attending physician. And this—" he motioned to the fake-smiling blonde standing next to him "—is Nurse Price. She will be taking down your insurance information."

"Insurance?"

"That's right," Nurse Price said, her voice a little too chipper for Jackie's ears. She then brought out a pen and tapped it on the metal clipboard she was holding. "So, Miss Burkhart, if you could just tell me the name of your insurance provider..."

"Miss Burkhart?" Jackie repeated, still groggy with sleep. She had already sussed out that she was in a hospital—there were uncomfortable needles digging into her arms and hands, after all—but she had absolutely no idea what this bottle blonde was talking about.

"Yes, Miss Burkhart," Nurse Price repeated, oblivious to Jackie's question. "Can you tell me the name of your insurance provider?"

"Who is Miss Burkhart?"

"Uhm." Nurse Price warily glanced up at Dr Connors before quickly turning back to Jackie. "That would be you, miss. You're Jackie Burkhart."

"Huh."

Dr Connors frowned at Jackie's response and the alternating vacant-to-panic-back-to-vacant expression in her eyes. He stepped closer and pulled out a small light from his breast pocket and shined it in Jackie's eyes. After checking both pupils, he pocketed the light and rested both hands on the steel railing of her hospital bed.

"Jackie, can you tell me what year it is?"

"1980..." Her brow creased in thought. "I think?"

"Do you know what state you are in?"

"Uh... no."

Dr Connors took the pen from Nurse Price's hand and held it in front of Jackie. "Do you know what this is?"

"It's a pen," Jackie deadpanned, glaring at the older man before shoving the thing out of her face. "I'm not an idiot."

Dr Connors smiled and handed the pen back to Nurse Price. "Fair enough." Grabbing a chair, he settled down on it and examined Jackie for a moment before continuing his line of questioning, "Jackie, I'd like to ask you a few more questions, if that's okay with you."

Jackie swallowed hard and nodded slowly. A mild panic seized her body, which she quickly dismissed. There was no point in freaking out... at least not yet. But her mouth had gone dry and she felt incredibly nervous, like someone was about to break some very bad news to her. The gentle look in the doctor's eyes had put her somewhat at ease, at least for the time-being, but the sensation that the other shoe was about to drop couldn't be shook loose.

"What's five plus five?"

Jackie raised an eyebrow. What kind of questioning was this? "Ten."

"Five times five?"

"Twenty-five."

"Twenty-eight divided by four."

"Uh, seven."

"What is the capital of the United States?"

"Washington, DC."

"The capital of Wisconsin?"

"Madison."

"Who is the current president of the United States?"

"Jimmy Carter." Jackie huffed impatiently. "Where are you going with all these questions?"

"I'm just creating a baseline."

"For what?"

"Where and when were you born?" he pressed, ignoring her question, and Jackie's brow knit in deep thought. She should know this, right?

"I—I don't know."

"Do you know how old you are?"

"No." She licked her lips, a sickening feeling of dread churning in her stomach. Why couldn't she answer these questions about herself? "But—but I assume I'm an adult."

Dr Connors's eyebrows rose at this. "Why's that?"

"I don't sound like a little kid," Jackie reasoned. "I look small, but—" she glanced down at her petite frame "—am I a teenager?"

Dr Connors smiled. "You're eighteen."

"Oh." Jackie didn't know what to think of any of this. Was she losing her mind? Was this even happening? Was any of this even real? Was she still dreaming?

"Jackie—" Dr Connors leaned in close "—I believe you are suffering from retrograde amnesia."

"Amnesia?" Jackie blinked nonplussed. "Isn't that where you forget who you are?"

"Not always. Those who suffer from retrograde amnesia don't necessarily forget who they are; there are varying degrees of memory loss." Dr Connors brought his hands together and placed them on the steel railing. "In most cases patients only lose their most recent memories prior to the traumatic incident that triggered the memory loss."

"Tragic incident?"

The doctor glanced down for a moment before meeting Jackie's eye. "You were in a car accident six days ago; you recently woke up from a coma."

Jackie swallowed dryly, allowing the information process. "So... that triggered my amnesia?"

"It's one of the possible causes, yes." He took in a deep breath and cleared his throat. "You suffered some minor brain damage, which resulted in the swelling of your left temporal lobe."

Jackie brought a shaky hand to her forehead; the needles reacted to the extension of her arm by tugging uncomfortably at her flesh, and she winced. "I can't—I can't remember anything..."

"I'm afraid you're suffering from a severe form of retrograde amnesia, something called a global psychogenic fugue." Dr Connors exhaled slowly, preparing himself for a long explanation. "This means you have lost all memories of self but you still possess information that does not pertain to you specifically, such as language, geography, mathematics, politics, etcetera."

Jackie nodded slowly, as if she understood, but she didn't. Right now she felt lost, like her entire world had shattered all around her. And yet the fact that she couldn't remember her past didn't make her feel exceptionally sad, for whatever reason. She didn't want to cry or lash out. In fact, all she wanted to do was retract inside herself, but that just left her feeling trapped and alone.

"Is there something wrong with my brain?"

"Structural-wise, we're not really sure." Dr Connors tapped his fingers on the metal bar. "We didn't find anything during the surgery or in the X-rays to suggest permanent damage. Your memory loss could be psychological, which means that your condition is temporary."

"So I'll get my memory back?"

"We'll have to run more tests, see if your amnesia isn't a result of anatomical damage to the brain."

"And if it's the, uh, other thing?"

"Psychological?" The doctor shrugged. "Well, it depends. Your memory could return in a few days or a few weeks; sometimes it takes months. Your memories could come back gradually or all at once."

"And, uh—" Jackie bit her lip and closed her eyes briefly "—if it's structural damage?"

"The brain will eventually heal itself; all or some of your memories will return." Dr Connors paused thoughtfully. "Occasionally, they won't."

"I see." Suddenly Jackie was no longer very fond of Dr Connors. Some part of her knew that he was just being honest with her and she should be appreciative of his candour, but another part of her wanted to tell him that his bedside manner needed some fine-tuning. "So—" she inhaled sharply "—exactly who am I and where am I?"

Dr Connors smiled and leaned back in the chair. "Your name is Jackie Burkhart and you're in Columbia St Mary's Hospital in Milwaukee, Wisconsin."

"Jackie Burkhart." Jackie tasted the name in her mouth like sour milk. She wanted it to register, to mean something to her, but it didn't. Suddenly, the pain in her ribs that had been a dull ache earlier had flared to the point where she was gasping for air.

"Jackie, are you okay?" Dr Connors was on his feet, immediately checking her vitals.

"No, I—I'm actually in quite a lot of pain right now." She clamped her hands down on the mattress and tried to will the pain away, pretend that she was perfectly fine. It wasn't working.

"Where?"

"My ribs."

Dr Connors reached into the right pocket of his white lab coat and pulled out a syringe with a thin hypodermic needle. Popping off the safety cover, he released any air built up in the syringe and stuck the hairline needle into the IV tubing. He slowly pressed down on the plunger, releasing a clear fluid into the IV.

"This is Demerol; it should help with the pain." Jackie clutched at the sheets in pain while the doctor adjusted the IV bag and tossed the syringe in the trash. "Aside from the head trauma, you suffered three broken ribs, which almost punctured your lungs. Since you were in a coma, we hadn't really worried about your pain medication."

"That's comforting," Jackie said through gritted teeth, feeling the sudden urge to throttle her physician. After a moment, though, a strange wave of euphoria swept through her body and her death-grip on the sheets loosened as the opioid drug worked its wonderful mojo. "Wow. This stuff is great." She instantly felt mellow and relaxed; high.

"Better?"

"Oh yeah." Jackie grinned, her head lolling to the side. "By the way, I've decided that I don't like my name. Jackie." She tasted the word in her mouth again. "It sounds too much like Jack—a _boy's_ name. I don't like it."

At this point Nurse Price finally piped in, "Then what name do you intend to go by?"

Jackie glanced up at the woman; she had forgot she was there. But then she pondered the nurse's question for a moment before nodding resolutely—or at least as resolutely as her drug-induced mind could manage.

"Ruby—Ruby Tuesday."

"Ugh."

Jackie's head snapped up. "What? Why did you just 'ugh' my name?"

"Ruby? Seriously?" The blonde nurse snorted derisively. "It's just not right."

"_You're_ not right... _Blondie_! What's not to like about the name Ruby?"

"Ruby is just so... _Wizard of Oz_."

"No, you're thinking about the ruby slippers. No one was named Ruby in that movie. And I think Ruby Tuesday is a great name. It's so—it's so—"

"Weird?"

Jackie huffed at the nurse. She didn't know why she liked the name or why she thought it was appropriate for her. She just did. "Whatever. I like it." Jackie nodded once more. "I feel like a Ruby."

"Okay, _Ruby_," the nurse said with a roll of her eyes.

"Whatever, _Blondie_."

"Okay, then," Dr Connors interjected, putting a hand on the small of Nurse Price's back as he guided her towards the exit.

"Doctor, you're seriously not going to let her call herself Ruby Tuesday, are you?" The nurse had hissed the question in a whisper so Jackie couldn't overhear.

"I can't tell her what to call herself," Dr Connors retorted. "Besides, she'll forget in a few hours once the medication has worn off." He turned back to his sedated patient. "We're going to let you get some rest. I'll be back to check on you later."

"Whatever," Jackie mumbled, her eyelids drooping shut. _Stupid blonde bimbo. What does she know? Ruby Tuesday is a great name. A great name! _She just had no idea why she thought so.

**.**

**.**

**.**

DONNA WAS RESTING her head on Eric's shoulder while Fez fed nickels into the soda machine. At the end of the corridor, a janitor in grey fatigues was using the buffer to polish the floor in slow, lazy sweeps, lulling the blonde to sleep. She lifted her head and shook it in an effort to wake herself, but found her head slowly returning to Eric's shoulder.

"When's your mom coming?" she asked, trying to keep her mind alert.

They had been waiting to see Jackie for hours, ever since Hyde had WB get a hold of them earlier that morning. It was now well past noon and no one had let them see Jackie yet; no one had even spoken to them except the admittance nurse earlier that morning.

"After her shift or whenever Red gets off from the shop." Eric tried to stifle a yawn but failed. "Probably sometime after dinner."

Donna nodded, her cheek brushing against the fabric of his shirt. Sitting in these chairs for hours on end was tiring and uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable and nerve-racking as it was to wait and find out if Jackie was okay or not.

Both Hyde and the admittance nurse had informed them that Jackie had been in a coma and had woken earlier that morning, but no one knew how the younger girl was faring medically. Hyde had left before Donna could get any more answers out of him, claiming to be tired and needing to check on the store to make sure Leo hadn't accidentally given away records for free—again.

"I'm hungry," Fez whined, taking a sip of his root beer.

"Then go the cafeteria." Eric brought a hand to rub at his tired eyes. "If none of us are here when you get back, then you'll know where we are."

Fez nodded wearily. "Do you think they have candy?"

"Probably." Eric lowered his hand and was greeted with a familiar and welcoming sight walking down the hall towards them. "Kelso!"

Eric jumped up, and Donna with him, and they rushed towards their lanky friend. Fez got to him first, his soda pop quickly discarded, and wrapped his arms around his best friend's neck, almost toppling him over.

"Hey, little buddy." Kelso was trying to juggle Fez and the gifts in his arms before Donna and Eric joined in the group hug. "I got here as soon as I could. I even got a speeding ticket!" He sounded somewhat proud of this.

The three of them finally released Kelso from their embrace, with Fez letting go last. Eric then affectionately frogged his taller friend in the shoulder. "Hey, we didn't need you getting into an accident too!"

Donna and Fez nodded in earnest, earning a sheepish grin from Kelso. "I was careful, man. I was only driving like ten, twenty miles over the speed limit." Donna and Eric rolled their eyes but smiled. "I tried to tell the cop that I was a brother-in-arms, but he said a security guard at a strip club isn't the same thing. Pfft, whatever."

"Well, we're really glad to see you, man." Eric affectionately clapped Kelso on the back. "I'm sure Jackie will be too."

"Is she awake?"

"We don't know yet." Eric shrugged somewhat sadly before glancing down at the gifts in Kelso's hands, one of them being a big blue balloon. "So what's all this?"

"I brought Jackie a balloon, cause I know she likes balloons," Kelso said excitedly. "Oh, and some candy too."

Fez's attention was immediately captured. "Ooh, candy?"

"Kelso," Donna began, looking her taller friend up and down with some concern, "why are you so dirty?"

Kelso's face was smudged with dirt and the knees of his jeans were muddy and wet. "Oh, I was wrestling with a dog outside," he answered simply, as if this was an adequate explanation.

"Why?"

"Cause it tried to steal my candy!" he screeched, taking a yellow polka-dotted bag filled with what they assumed to be candy out of his jacket pocket.

"You sonuvabitch!" Fez cried, snatching the bag from Kelso's hand. "This candy is mine! I left it at your apartment!"

"Hey!" Kelso snaked the candy back from Fez. "Possession is like nine tents of the law!"

"Nine tents?" Donna glanced over at Eric, who merely shrugged, and turned back to Kelso. "Don't you mean nine _tenths_?"

"No, I'm pretty sure he left the candy in the tent in my living room."

"You have a tent in your—" Donna shook her head and waved her hand in front of her face "—never mind. I don't wanna know."

Kelso stuffed the bag of candy back into his pocket, eliciting a growl from Fez. He then glanced around the waiting room, as though looking for someone.

"Hey, where's Hyde?" His curly-haired friend was absent, and his other three friends shared apprehensive glances before fixing their attention to the recently polished floor.

"He went home," Fez supplied quickly, failing to meet his best friend's eye.

"What the hell, man!"

"To be fair, Kelso," Eric began, holding up his hands at his clearly agitated friend, "Hyde is the one who found Jackie."

"Yeah," Donna added reluctantly. "He was the one who was here with her when she woke up and called the rest of us."

"B-but you'd think he'd stay." Kelso shook his hair out of his face. "Wait, this is Hyde—what was I thinking?"

"We ponder that same question all the time, my friend," Fez said, clapping his friend on the shoulder with a thin smile. "We usually assume nothing."

Kelso broke out into a wide grin. "Burn!" But then his grin quickly faded to a frown. "Still, Hyde should be here, man."

Everyone glanced down at the floor again. No one was going to dispute the truth Kelso spoke. Hyde should have been there. But unlike Kelso they had an inclining of what Hyde had gone through, and they weren't sure if any of them could have done what he did and want to stick around the hospital afterwards.

"Kelso—" Eric placed a hand on his friend's shoulder "—Hyde had to identify dead bodies all last night and this morning."

"What?"

"It's true," Donna confirmed, and then began to fidget. "We split up into two groups and Hyde drove to Milwaukee first. He had to go to the county morgue and—" She couldn't finish her sentence; instead she turned away with a shudder.

"Aww, man, that's gruesome." A rare look of contemplation crossed Kelso's handsome features before he handed the balloon to Fez. "Well, I've gotta pee," he announced. "I had like eight cups of coffee this morning."

Kelso took off in search of a washroom while Fez held onto the balloon, poking at it with his finger. Just then a nurse came from down the corridor, and Donna jogged over, flagging the young woman down.

"Excuse us, we're friends of Jackie Burkhart." Donna had barrelled through, stepping out in front of the blonde nurse before she could manoeuvre around. "We were wondering if she was ready to receive visitors yet."

"Jackie Burkhart?" The nurse, whose name tag read Nurse Price, made a face. "Oh, _her_." She rolled her eyes and walked over to the recently vacated admittance desk. "Let me page Dr Connors. He's her attending physician."

Donna clapped her hands together and brought them to her mouth with a smile. "Thank you—thank you so much."

Nurse Price nodded, flashing her too bright smile, and picked up the phone. A page for Dr Connors to the admittance desk rang through the PA system. Not long after Kelso returned from his trip to the washroom, a look of relief on his face. He walked over to Fez to take back the balloon, and the foreigner began to curse at him—alternating between English and his native language—demanding his candy back.

"So, you're friends of the patient?" the nurse asked behind a thin veneer of tacked on politeness.

"Yeah." Donna looked the woman up and down; she seemed to be trying her best to mask a scowl, and Donna had to stop herself from grinning. "Why, did she insult you?"

The nurse glanced down at her clipboard. "Sort of."

Donna couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, that's kind of her thing." She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to deflate her smile and waved dismissively. "Don't take it personally."

Nurse Price only smiled thinly at Donna's words and held up her clipboard. "Uhm, since you're her friends, could any of you tell me her insurance provider?"

"Uh, I don't think Jackie even has health insurance." Donna glanced over at her foreign friend. "Does she, Fez?"

"The salon doesn't offer it," he answered despondently before muttering, "those dirty sons-of-bitches!"

"She could have one with Pam." Donna shrugged. "She's under twenty-five, so she still might be covered under her mother's health insurance—if Pam has any."

"And her mother's full name is?"

"Step away, Donna. I'll handle this," Kelso ordered in his cop voice, hooking his thumbs into the front of his jeans. "I know everything there is to know about Jackie's mom." He glanced down at the nurse. "So, what exactly do you need—her mating name or whatever?"

"Her _mating_ name?"

"Yeah, her mating name; the name Pam had before she married Jackie's dad. Duh!" He glanced over his shoulder at the gang and pointed at the nurse with a stupid grin on his face. "This lady doesn't even know what a mating name is."

"Kelso—" Donna brought her thumb and middle finger to the bridge of her nose and sighed "—it's called a _maiden_ name."

"That's what I said!" he shrieked. "A _mating_ name!"

The nurse took a hesitant step back. "If you could just give me her mother's phone number, I can ask her these questions myself."

"Yeah, we don't know how to get a hold of her mother." Eric was rubbing the back of his neck. "My mother's been trying to reach her for the better part of a day."

"She's a very busy whore," Fez added with a scowl; whether it was reserved for Pam or the lack of candy, no one knew.

"I, okay..." The nurse paused. She didn't quite seem to know what to say. "Uhm, do you have a number where I could reach Miss Burkhart's father, then?"

"Her dad's in jail," Donna said, and the nurse resumed looking awkward and uncomfortable.

"Ah, I'll just page Dr Connors again." Nurse Price then walked away, leaving the gang to themselves.

"What if Jackie doesn't have any health insurance?" Donna began to pace. "She's been in the hospital for almost a week and who knows if she's had surgery or what's wrong with her. The medical bill is going to be a fortune."

"Yes, and she makes far less than a fortune at the salon," Fez noted. "I can barely afford rent and candy."

Just then a tall, slim man in his mid-to-late fifties wearing scrubs and a white lab coat approached them. He had salt and pepper hair and hard eyes, though the corner his mouth and eyes bore deep smile lines—a man who knew how to smile. He was smiling now, the sort of polite smile you gave to strangers when you wanted to ask them what they wanted so you could get them out of your hair as quickly as possible.

"Hello, you are friends of Jackie Burkhart?"

"Yes."

"Sorta."

"I used to do it with her."

"I'd like to do it with her."

The doctor's brow creased into a slight V. "I'm Dr Connors, Jackie's attending physician. How may I help you?"

Donna was the first to speak, "Uhm, we've been waiting here for several hours and we were wondering when we could see Jackie. One of the nurses earlier told us she was in a coma and now she's awake, so... ?"

"I'm afraid your friend is currently resting."

"Still?"

Dr Connors offered the young adults a genial smile. "We've had to up her medication since she regained consciousness, which means she can now feel the pain from her injuries."

"Oh, okay." Donna scratched the back of her head. "Well, uhm, when _can_ we see her, then?"

"She should be awake in a few hours. I suggest you go back to your hotel or wherever you are staying and rest. You can come back again around five."

"No, we'll stay here." Donna glanced back at the guys, who nodded in agreement. When she turned back towards the doctor, there was an odd look on his face, like he wasn't telling them everything. "Is there something else?"

"Yes, but I can only inform her immediate family of any information relevant to her medical condition."

"Yeah, her parents aren't here," Eric said. "Her dad's in prison and her mom—well, we don't know where she is."

"I see." Dr Connors exhaled sharply and rubbed his hands together. "Are any of you family members of Jackie's?"

"I used to do her, like in the biblical sense."

"Shut up, Kelso!"

"No, we're all the family she has." Donna swallowed hard with guilt. They really were all the family Jackie had and none of them had even known she was missing until yesterday. "She used to live with me. My father was like her foster father and she was like my foster sister. Does that count?"

Dr Connors smiled. "No, but I feel I should warn you regardless, since I can't stop you from visiting her if she wishes to see you."

"Oh God!" Donna brought her hands to her mouth. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Jackie is suffering from retrograde amnesia."

"No!" Fez yelled dramatically, and then blinked nonplussed. "What is that?"

"She has no memories of her past before the accident," Dr Connors explained patiently. "She doesn't know who she is or who you are for that matter."

"Is it temporary?" Donna hands had moved from her mouth to cross over her breast.

"We don't know yet. There was swelling on her left temporal lobe when she was first admitted to Emergency. The swelling has gone down and we can see no obvious anatomical damage to the brain, but that doesn't mean it's not there. We also have to consider a neurobiological basis for her amnesia."

"Okay," Eric interjected with a raised hand, "how about you break this down to us in laymen terms."

Dr Connors stared at him blankly. "Those were laymen terms."

"Forget laymen!" Kelso shouted. "Do you speak English?"

"Okay—" Eric raised a finger this time "—explain it to us as though you were talking to children."

"Slow children," Fez added, and Dr Connors took in a deep breath.

"We don't know whether her amnesia stems from physical damage to the brain or psychological trauma. Since we have yet to find a physical or anatomical anomaly—we haven't found any obvious problems with her brain—we're leaning towards a psychological impairment."

"So," Kelso began, "some psycho is impairing Jackie's brain?"

"Just—" Eric waved his hand at the doctor "—just ignore him. He's very, very stupid."

"So Jackie's brain is making her forget?" Donna asked, ignoring the idiots behind her.

"It's known as a psychogenic fugue, where an individual consciously or unconsciously avoids a traumatic memory or memories. It can be situation specific, like a mother forgetting her child after the recent loss of said child; or it can be global, where the individual forgets all personal memories before the traumatic event." Dr Connors shrugged. "Jackie's case appears to be global. She is able to retain information that does not pertain to her personally, but all personal history—her parents, her friends, her life up to this point—remains elusive."

"Will she get her memories back?"

"If Jackie is suffering from a fugue state, then her amnesia is reversible. Her memories could return anywhere from a few days to a few months; coming back slowly or all at once."

"That's good," Donna said with some relief, while the others nodded.

"Just remember that she doesn't know who you are," the doctor warned. "Don't try to force the memories to come back or push your feelings onto her. You are virtual strangers to her right now." He cleared his throat, suddenly looking rather sympathetic. "It would be best if we could get her into a treatment facility and meet with a psychiatrist as soon as possible." He offered them a thin smile before making to leave. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"

"Wait!" Donna called out, and the doctor halted before turning around. "Can we tell Jackie who we are?"

"Of course. We encourage you to fill in the missing pieces of her past, _gradually_ reintroduce herself to herself. It's been known to facilitate the healing process and help the memories return sooner." His expression turned grave. "But try not to bring up anything traumatic."

They all nodded emphatically at this. None of them wanted to upset Jackie.

"Right. Thanks again, doctor."

Once Dr Connors was out of earshot, Donna turned back towards the guys. "Nothing traumatic? We better not mention 1979 at all then."

"But that means no mention of Jackie dating me," Fez said with a pout. "No fair!"

"I'll tell her all about her wild love affair with me," Kelso said with a smug smile. "Trying to picture me naked oughta bring all the memories rushing back."

"Memories or nausea?" Eric gave his friend a hard, disgusted look. "Cause I'm feeling the latter right now when trying to picture you naked."

"Why are you even trying to picture him naked?" Donna asked her boyfriend.

"I have a vivid imagination that I cannot control, Donna. Sometimes it serves darker purposes."

"I'm picturing him naked right now," Fez said breathlessly. "It is glorious."

Kelso grinned. "I know, right?"

Donna just shook her head and walked back over to the seating area. "There is something seriously wrong with all of you."

**.**

**.**

**.**

JACKIE HAD BEEN awake for almost an hour; lying in her hospital bed with nothing to do. It wasn't as though she could do much in her current state. She was sore and groggy with sleep and the after-effects of the medication were still pumping through her system.

She felt trapped, caged. She could not stay in this room any longer. She had to leave or at least do something. With no books or radio or television she had begun counting the tiles on the ceiling. In no time she had figured out the cubic area of the entire room.

She did this because if she didn't have her mind on numbers this terrible fear came over her. She'd have to think about other things, like why she couldn't recall anything about her past or herself. That thought process would last all of five seconds, but then what was there after that? So the numbers mixed themselves up in Jackie's brain, offering her some measure relief, like a cool breeze on a sweltering hot day. After all, what else did she have to do?

"Jackie—"

"Ruby," Jackie corrected with faux sternness, as Dr Connors shunted open the privacy curtain.

She had heard him approach before his hand even reached for the curtain, and her amused correction had resulted in a surprised smile from the older doctor. He had expected her to forget about her self-appointed name; clearly she hadn't.

"_Ruby_," he amended, his grin widening, "you have visitors."

Jackie blinked and then winced at the glare of the hallway lights creeping into the room. Hell, even her eyes hurt now. "Is it the same guy as before?"

"What guy?"

"The guy who woke me up."

"Oh, him." Dr Connors was surprised Jackie remembered the fellow, the one who had been with her when she first regained consciousness. "I'm not sure if he's still here, but you have a bunch of friends waiting outside for you. They've been here for a while."

Jackie's bruised face contorted into a frown as she threaded her bottom lip with her teeth. It was odd, but she found herself rather disappointed that her mystery man wasn't there to see her. Of course it shouldn't have upset her the way it did since she couldn't even remember what he looked like. But still... something about his absence bothered her.

"I guess I should see them." She wrung her small hands together somewhat nervously. It wasn't so much that she was apprehensive about meeting with strangers but that there would be absolutely no spark of recognition there—and that thought made her feel rather empty inside.

"Only if you want to," Dr Connors said in his rare, sympathetic voice, and Jackie merely smiled at him and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

After all, what else did she have to do?

**.**

**.**

**.**


	7. Love Song

Love Song

**.**

**.**

**.**

_19 February 1980  
Point Place, Wisconsin  
The Formans' Driveway_

**.**

**.**

A PLUME OF smoke, impossibly fine and dainty, curled into his nostrils before he slowly exhaled. Hyde took another drag from his cigarette and the harsh orange light illuminated his face with a ghostly glow, the hollows of his cheeks highlighted for the world to see. A few ominous beats later and the embers at the tip all but died and disappeared; only darkness remained.

Bon Scott had died early that morning; passed out after a night of heavy drinking at a London club called the Music Machine. The poor Scottish-born Aussie bastard had drunk himself to death. The radio announcer had called it 'death by misadventure'. Another rock hero fallen to drugs and alcohol.

Hyde sat on the hood of the El Camino and grimaced as he thought about life and death. He had driven straight back to Point Place after meeting up with the others at the hospital in Milwaukee. Donna and Fez had wanted to know more about Jackie's condition, but he had just directed them to a nurse and left without saying a word. Donna had yelled at him as he walked away, but no one tried to stop him. He was tired and sick, and he couldn't stand to be there a minute longer, not with Jackie awake and asking for Fez. He had poured his heart out to her and _he_ was the one she had asked for. It figured.

_Nothing left to worry about now_, he told himself, taking another long drag from his cigarette. Jackie was fine and awake. Well, maybe not entirely fine. The image of her small, bruised body flashed through his mind and he visibly winced with a cough. The memory surprised and hurt him in its clarity. Jackie wasn't just some thought he could banish from his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

Fat snowflakes fell heavily from the darkening sky, and he shook his head, trying to loosen the cold snow from his curls. Soon the entire driveway would be blanketed in the white stuff and him with it. It was just his luck.

He dropped his cigarette in the snow with a hiss and turned towards the basement. He could get on with his life now, he told himself. He had apologised, had made things right with Jackie again... at least in his mind. He'd worry about the real world consequences when the time came.

**.**

**.**

**.**

JACKIE SAT MOTIONLESS in the hospital bed, her eyes moving slowly from one corner of the wall to another. She waited for her visitors with a nervous sort of anticipation, a rough tension settling in her back and shoulders, wreaking havoc with her trapezii. Her arms hung limply at her sides, her fingers playing with the thin sheets while her legs lay straight together with her toes pointed.

She was neither cold nor warm; neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. She just _was_. She had assumed having no past would give her a sense of freedom, but it didn't. It only left her feeling hollow inside.

She unconsciously lifted a hand to her face, the needles tearing into her skin as she pulled taut. Her fingers patted over her hair, finding the small bandaged patch just above her ear where the doctors had cut into her brain. She shuddered at the thought and her fingers quickly moved on, trembling through her stringy, oily locks. She needed a shower, a good shampoo and conditioner.

Not so subtly turning her nose into her shoulder, she inhaled. She smelled fine, no obvious odours. She must have been given a sponge bath while she was unconscious. The thought that someone had washed her body while she slept made her feel violated and dirty.

The distant sound of boots making contact with the floor drew Jackie's attention to the open door of her hospital room. She lowered her hand and listened, and waited. With her privacy curtain drawn back, she could plainly see her visitors enter the room. Four young adults—three guys and one tall girl—piled in through the door. Each was sporting his own badge of nervous apprehension and Jackie eyed them somewhat warily, trying to rack her brain for a memory or some vague recollection of the four people walking towards her, but nothing came.

The tall blonde girl (another blonde?) was standing beside an equally tall but rather skinny guy with an average face and pleasant disposition. He and the blonde girl were attempting to greet Jackie with their awkward smiles, pretending that they were excited to be there. Jackie inwardly sighed. At least they were trying. The shorter, darker boy, who appeared to be of the Latin persuasion, looked despondent and guilty, while the tall and impossibly handsome man holding a blue balloon was wearing an expression that could have been labelled as blissfully ignorant. He had a happy vacant look to him, and he just so happened to be the first one to speak.

"Wow, Jackie! You look really bad!"

Jackie gaped at the pretty boy for a half-second. First surprise washed over her face, then confusion, then thinly veiled contempt. Each emotion shifted so quickly that not even a trained eye could have spotted them. Jackie's face remained impassive, but her mind was reeling and whirling. Who the hell did this guy think he was, the 'looks police'? Of course she looked bad—she had been in a car accident! _Idiot_.

"Kelso!" the blonde hissed, her hand snapping out to slap the pretty boy upside his head. Jackie couldn't help but mentally thank the girl, wishing she could have done the same.

"What?" Kelso whined, rubbing his head before pointing at Jackie. "This is worse than the time she was sick and I saw her with no make-up on!"

"Kelso!"

"God! What is it, Donna?"

"You're suffering from that condition again?" she growled.

"What condition?"

"The one where your mouth is open and words are coming out."

"Uh, it's called _talking_, Donna!" He dramatically rolled his eyes and turned to the guys for support. _"_And _she's_ the smart one of the group?"

"It's amazing, isn't it?" the skinny man added wistfully, earning a reproachful look from the blonde whose name, Jackie had figured out, was Donna.

Jackie could only watch the exchange with carefully veiled wonderment.

"Kelso, my friend," the foreign man said with a slight lisp, as he put his hand on the pretty boy's arm. "I adore you, but you are an idiot."

"What? What!"

"Sorry about that, Jackie," Donna apologised with a sheepish grin, then shot Kelso with what Jackie assumed was her patented 'shut-your-trap-before-I-shut-it-for-you' glare.

"It's fine," Jackie said, plastering a fake smile on her face.

She had thought to correct the blonde and make her and the others call her Ruby, but that would just be too weird. Not that any of this wasn't weird enough to begin with. Ruby was the name she had given herself; she didn't want to share it with anyone else quite yet. They could call her Jackie, even though the name meant nothing to her.

"So, uhm, we're your friends." Donna laughed and then jabbed her thumb in the handsome yet impossibly stupid young man's direction. "That's Kelso, _the idiot_, and I'm Donna you're, uh, best friend." She glanced furtively at the foreign boy, who gave her a small smile and a double thumbs up of encouragement.

Jackie watched the exchange with a frown but mustered a semi-genuine smile for the tall blonde. "Hi, Donna." _Best friend, huh?_

The skinny boy, who had been standing behind the blonde, took a step towards Jackie's bed. "Hi, I'm Eric—the Luke Skywalker to your Darth Vader."

Everyone groaned at this while Jackie's brow furrowed in deep thought. "So, I'm... evil?"

"You remember the movie?" Eric's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "That's so awesome!" He began gesturing excitedly with his hands. "Okay, that was a not-so-accurate analogy. I'm more like the Obi Wan to your Darth—"

"Eric!"

The skinny guy looked sheepishly at Jackie and waved. "Hi, I'm Eric."

Jackie couldn't help but smile at the awkward bundle of limbs. It was obvious that the girl and the skinny boy were close. "Hi, Eric."

"Hello, Jackie." The dark-skinned young man in tight clothing with the slight lisp stepped towards her. "I am your boyfriend, Fez."

"Fez?" She tried to wrap her head around his name. She then not so subtly looked him up and down with a curious yet reproachful gaze. "You're my _boyfriend_?"

"Fez, didn't you break up with Jackie before she got into her accident?" Kelso asked, earning a monstrous glare from his foreign friend.

"Shut up, you sonuvabitch! She didn't need to know that!"

"Hi, I'm Michael Kelso," Kelso said in what he most likely assumed was a seductive tone, completely ignoring his friend's ire. "We used to do it, _a lot_. Yeah—" he leaned back, hooking his thumbs into his belt "—you pretty much worshipped the ground I walked on."

Jackie nodded slowly, trying her best not to roll her eyes. Seriously, the audacity of this guy. "Sure I did," she muttered sarcastically; however, her tone didn't seem to register with the pretty boy, whose grin only seemed to widen with pride.

"But that was before you traded down and got all ugly."

"KELSO!"

"Ow! Donna! Eric! _Fez_!" Kelso rubbed the back of his smarting head after his friends each took turns hitting him. "What the hell, guys!" They all glared at him and he finally offered Jackie a somewhat reproachful look. "Sorry, Jackie, I meant before you got all bruised and gross."

Donna's hand snapped out again.

"Donna, seriously!" Kelso shrieked, cupping the back of his head. "It's starting to hurt!"

"Good!" She glared at the lanky idiot before turning her attention back to Jackie, who was repressing the urge to smirk. "So, the doctor said we should fill you in on your past, help trigger your memories and such."

"Yeah, I could tell you a few stories about Pink Floyd and you and me doing the horizontal mambo," Kelso injected, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "If you know what I mean."

"No one wants to know what you mean!" Donna spat, shoving Kelso away before turning to her boyfriend. "Eric, could you?"

The skinny young man nodded and grabbed Kelso by the arm. "I'm on it." After a few short tugs he began dragging Kelso towards the door. "Kelso, no one wants to hear about you and your Apollo Rocket of Love."

"I was going to ease into that!"

"There's no easing into _that_!" Eric said with disgust, before glancing over at Jackie apologetically. "Sorry, he's been over-stimulated; had too much caffeine." He inclined his head. "See ya later, Jackie."

"See ya."

"But I only had like five, _eight_ cups of coffee!" Kelso complained loudly when they were both out the door, the blue balloon escaping down the hallway. "Man, I have to pee again." His face popped back inside the doorframe. "BYE, JACKIE!" Then, "MY BALLOON!"

Eric's hands reached out and found purchase on Kelso's neck, yanking him away with a strangled yelp. Jackie observed the commotion with a blank expression, though a faint flutter of amusement tickled her stomach. It felt as if she had just witnessed a bizarrely-acted play.

Were these really her friends? Did she really date the pretty boy idiot and the foreigner with better hair that her? Oh God, speaking of hair—how much did the doctors shave off? They hadn't let her see herself in a mirror yet.

"Is he normally that... exuberant?" Jackie asked, trying to take her mind off her hair or possible lack thereof. She had no idea why her current appearance bothered her so. Maybe it was the fact that the pretty boy had managed to insult her a dozen times in under sixty seconds.

"No," Fez answered with a slow shake of his head, "he's usually much louder and much stupider."

"Really?" Jackie couldn't help but snort.

Donna and Fez quietly echoed Jackie's snigger and, after a few seconds, there was nothing left to laugh about. Awkward silence filled the room and marooned them with unease. It was almost amusing to recognise that Kelso's idiocy and Eric's geek talk actually made this meeting somewhat bearable, if not entertaining. And now with them gone the situation had become slightly uncomfortable.

After a few torturous moments, Jackie decided to break the silence with the only real question that had been plaguing her mind since she woke up.

"Say, uhm, this might be a weird question, but—" Donna and Fez glanced down at her and waited expectantly (or was it hopefully?) "—do either of you know the guy who was with me when I woke up?"

Donna and Fez furrowed their brows and exchanged nervous but knowing glances. Silence once again hung thick and honeyed in the air, and Jackie frowned. Why were they acting so uneasy and obtuse? It was a simple question; either they knew or they didn't.

"Uh, yeah, that was Hyde," Donna admitted after a moment, scratching the back of her head. "Do you remember him?"

_Hyde, huh?_

"No." Jackie shook her head and laughed softly. "I don't even remember what he looks like. I just—" she shook her head again "—never mind."

_I wanted to see him, to say thanks for waking me up, for being there, for helping make things not so scary. I don't know why, but I just wanted to see him._

"I was only curious."

"Well, Hyde had to go back to work," Donna reasoned, and then added quickly, "but I'm sure he'll come visit you later." She met Fez's eye; the foreign man was scowling at her, as if to ask her who she was kidding.

Jackie's frown deepened. Did this Hyde guy not like her or something? If so, that didn't make a whole lot of sense. He was the one who sat with her when she woke up, held her hand and fetched the doctor. Why was he so unwilling to visit her in the hospital with the rest of his friends? Suddenly, Jackie felt very frustrated and very tired. More aptly put, she just wanted to be left alone.

"Listen, I know you guys have been waiting a long time to see me and I know you want to help—filling me in on my past and all that—and I'd really like to get my memories back, but..." She trailed off, shifting uncomfortably on the bed and wincing as she turned.

"Oh!" Donna was instantly at her side, fumbling with unsure hands. "Are you in pain? Should I get the doctor?"

"I'm fine." Jackie tried to reassure Donna, but she looked far from convinced. "Really, I'm okay—nothing to alert the doctor about. Sure, I'm in a little pain, but I'm mostly tired." She let out a long, protracted sigh. "I've spent nearly five days in a coma and all I want to do is sleep. Go figure, right?"

Donna smiled sadly. "I guess it's your brain's way of getting your body to heal." She glanced over at Fez and then waved her hand dismissively. "No, we totally understand. We want you to get better, so we'll just leave you to your rest. We'll—we'll be back later; _tomorrow_."

"Sounds great." Jackie offered them a thin smile that barely veiled her pain. "Thank you. It was nice to meet you two; Donna and Fez, right?" They both nodded stiffly, identical awkward expressions lingering on their faces. "Say thanks to the other two for me, will you?"

"Will do." Donna lifted her hand in a wave, as did Fez. "Bye, Jackie. See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Jackie. Rest well."

"Bye."

Jackie watched them leave. Their voices quieted and their footsteps echoed in the empty hallway until she could hear them no more. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep to take her, but it would not come. Sleep did not come to those who were empty, to those who were lost.

There was a void inside her now, like something was missing—more than her memories, more than her past. It was a feeling, like a familiar song playing deep inside her but she could no longer remember the words. It was a sodden heaviness of sadness and a dark sort of peace that weighed down her limbs so that she could not move. It was like drowning while knowing that her lifeline was nearby, ready to save her.

He only had to find her first...

**.**

**.**

**.**

THE EVENING SNOWSTORM had already moved south, leaving crystallised snowflakes frozen on the Formans' veranda window. Moonlight peeked out from behind the fast-moving clouds, throwing shadows on the porch and lighting a faint path. The sound of men grumbling and stomping their feet on aged wood was muffled by the thick glass. Red and Hyde set their shovels against the siding and entered though the kitchen, taking off their boots at the door.

"Well, that was Jack Burkhart calling from jail," Kitty said with her nervous, signature laugh as she hung up the phone. "He's agreed to release Jackie's trust fund to her—to pay for her medical bills and such."

"Is that so?" Red grunted, taking off his coat and picking up his boots before his wife snapped at him for tracking snow and mud onto her clean kitchen floor. Hyde did the same. "Jack comes through with the money as opposed to actual parenting, like usual." Although there was not much Jack Burkhart could do for his daughter from jail.

"Well, he's better than Pam, who still hasn't bothered to return my calls." Kitty let out a frustrated sigh as she watched her husband and foster son traipse across the kitchen floor to deposit their wet boots and coats near the basement door.

"So Pam knows her daughter's in the hospital and hasn't bothered to find out where she is?" Red asked, returning to the kitchen table while Hyde grabbed a soda from the fridge.

"Mhm."

"Fucking typical," Hyde muttered, popping off the bottle cap.

"Steven, language!" Kitty admonished, and the curly-haired young man attempted to look contrite.

"Sorry, Mrs Forman."

"What I want to know is how Jack even has this money," Red said, ignoring Hyde's slip of the tongue as he sat down. "Shouldn't Jackie's trust have been seized by the federal government when Jack was arrested for embezzling?"

"The trust was set up by Jackie's grandmother, not her father," Kitty explained. "And since it was left for Jackie when she turned twenty-one, neither Jack nor Pam could get their hands on it."

"How's Jackie getting it now?" Hyde took a sip of his cream soda. "She's not twenty-one."

"Jack is the trustee. He was able to get the lawyers to wave the age limit and grant her the money early." Kitty's eyes then lit up and she rocked on her heels, much like she did when she was in possession of juicy gossip that she planned on sharing. "Plus, it turns out Jackie's grandmother had a 'pour-over' will, which transferred other assets to the trust, and now Jackie has quite the sizeable estate, far more than her father ever had."

"Wow." Hyde leaned against the counter and grunted. It looked like Jackie was going to be rich again—or richer. He wasn't sure what to think of this.

"Good for her," Red said dispassionately, picking up the already-read morning's paper. "At least she's getting something out of this."

"I agree," Kitty sing-songed, skipping over to the stove to turn it on.

Just as Kitty was preparing a late supper, Donna and Eric came in through the veranda, tracking in snow as they entered. Red was about to yell at them to take their wet boots and coats to the living room when Eric waved tiredly.

"Hey, we're back!"

"We can see that." Red lowered his newspaper with a scowl. "You two dumbasses are tracking snow onto your mother's clean floor."

"Oops, sorry." Donna sheepishly reached down to take off her boots, and Eric did the same. They both carried their shoes and coats into the living room to set down and hang up.

Kitty snapped off the stove and took off after her son and his girlfriend, eager for news about Jackie. Red and Hyde sighed heavily, setting down their respective paper and soda, before following Kitty out into the living room. Both knew the nurse would only drag them out there if they didn't come.

"Where's Fez and Kelso, man?" Hyde wasn't about to ask the obvious like Mrs Forman wanted to.

"They're back at Fez's place." Donna hung up her jacket as she stumbled towards the couch. She looked exhausted and ready to collapse. "We're all pretty beat from the driving and the waiting."

"How's Jackie?" Red asked gruffly, feeling his wife practically vibrate at his side. He didn't need her firing off a bunch of medical questions that those two dumbasses clearly couldn't answer for her.

"Yeah, about that..." Eric paused, sharing a wary glance with his girlfriend, who was rolling up her sleeves as though she was getting ready to deliver a baby (or bad news).

"What is it, honey?" Kitty's voice was full of concern, and Hyde felt an uneasy, piercing pain in his gut.

"Eric, remember what I said about breaking this to them gently?" Donna murmured, shooting a significant look at Hyde, who was waiting impatiently with Mr and Mrs Forman.

"Donna,_ relax_," Eric said. "I can handle this." He cleared his throat and raised his hands to address the trio. "Okay, so anyone here who _doesn't_ have an amnesiac for an ex-girlfriend, take a step back—wait, not so fast, Hyde!"

"What?" Hyde looked confused at first, then angry. "What the hell are you talking about, Forman?"

"Smooth, Eric." Donna palmed her face. "_Real_ smooth."

"Jackie has amnesia?" Kitty gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth. "Let's go, Red!" She was already turning back towards the kitchen.

"But I just got home," Red complained. "What about dinner?"

"I want to talk to Jackie's doctor!"

"Can't we go after dinner? It's not like she's going anywhere."

Kitty plastered an angry smile on her face. "We'll get something to eat in Milwaukee, Red Forman!"

"Fine." Red fastened his own disgruntled smile and obliged his wife. Once Kitty was out of the living room, Red turned an angry finger on his son and his friends. "You kids never stop interrupting my peace!" He then turned around and exited out the door.

Once Kitty and Red were gone, Donna and Eric slumped down on the sofa and sighed. Hyde took the chair closest to the living room; the one that he always used to sit in with Jackie nestled on his lap. He brought his fingers to his tired eyes, lifting up his aviators, and rubbed.

"She's really got amnesia, man?" he asked, unable to prevent the question from passing his lips. He was curious and confused, and he didn't quite believe it all. It was like a friggin' soap opera scenario

"Yeah."

Hyde lowered his hand and his brows came together in thought. "But, I could've sworn—" He stopped himself and shifted slightly in his seat. Donna and Forman didn't need to know what he thought. He didn't even know what he thought.

"What?"

"Nothing." He shrugged, slipping back into Zen. It was all so bizarre. Jackie Burkhart had no idea who she was, who anyone was—who he was. He thought back to what she had said when she had woken up: _where is he?_ Had she really been asking for Fez?

"I feel so bad for Jackie," Donna said, interrupting Hyde's train of thought. "Not knowing who she is, who anyone else is. She's all alone."

Eric snaked his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. "She has us—" he briefly glanced over at his best friend "—sorta."

"Well, at least she isn't poor anymore." Hyde leaned back in his chair, and Donna whipped her head around.

"What do you mean?"

"Her dad released her trust fund."

"She has a trust?" Donna brought her fingers to her lips in surprise. "I don't think she even knew." She shrugged slowly. "Well, that's something at least."

"I was wondering how she was going to pay her hospital bills," Eric pondered aloud. "I thought we were going to have to pimp out Kelso."

Donna snorted, and then clapped her hands together as another thought came to mind. "And now Jackie can have her therapy!"

"Therapy?" Hyde's brow creased. "Physical therapy?"

"Yeah, that too. The doctor also recommended she see a psychiatrist for her amnesia. Apparently her condition might be psychological."

"Huh."

"So, are you coming to the hospital with us tomorrow?"

Hyde glanced over at Forman and shrugged indifferently. "What for? It's not like she'll recognise me."

"Yeah, but maybe you should be there anyway," Eric suggested in a soft voice. "The doctor said we should try to remind her of her past."

"But nothing traumatic," Donna added, directing a rather nasty glare Hyde's way, "which rules you out, _Hyde_."

"Exactly." Hyde folded his arms across his barrelled chest. "There's no point in me going."

"No point?" Donna shot up in her seat. "Hyde, don't be such a dillhole! What are you gonna tell her when she gets her memories back?"

"Who says she's gonna get 'em back?"

"I-I—" Donna stuttered, grasping for words. "Well, what if she does? What are you gonna say? _There was no point?_ That's real nice, Hyde." She thrust a finger in his direction. "Well, here's a point for you: you could try being a friend to Jackie for once!"

"Jackie and I aren't friends," Hyde said, his face devoid of emotion. "We never were."

"God!" Donna slapped her palms against her thighs in barely suppressed rage and stood up. "You are such an asshole!"

Donna tore up the stairs, presumably to Eric's room. When the door slammed shut, Eric winced and nodded thoughtfully to himself. Donna was pissed, pissed off at Hyde. But Donna was a woman and when she was pissed at someone—someone who did not even have to be him—she was pissed off at the world. He definitely wasn't getting lucky tonight, and it was all thanks to his delightfully cheery and supportive best friend.

"That went well." Eric sighed and cocked his head to the side, examining the curly-haired rebel sitting on the chair. Donna was right; Hyde was being an asshole. But Eric knew Hyde and he knew the Zen act was just that—an act. "So—" he tapped a beat on his knees "—how many bodies did you have to identify?"

Hyde barely moved his lips. "Two."

Awkward silence ensued. Maybe this wasn't the best way to go about getting his friend to open up. So Eric wisely decided to avoid the obvious seven-tonne elephant in the room and subtly moved onto the five-hundred pound gorilla.

"It was really weird seeing Jackie in that hospital bed, man. She looked so tiny and fragile, like she might break at any moment." He twiddled his thumbs together. "I still can't believe she has amnesia, although it does make a lot sense. She didn't once call me twitchy or skinny or geeky, or a twitchy skinny geek boy. In fact, she was super quiet; barely talked."

"Hmm."

Eric frowned. Nothing. No emotional response. Zen was in full activation mode. It was time to switch tactics.

"Hey, you were there with her when she woke up. Did she say anything to you?"

"Nope." Hyde turned away and then, after another moment of silence, lowered his elbows slightly. "So, she really doesn't remember anything?"

"Nope." Eric popped the P for emphasis. "The doctor gave us a big speech about it too. He still doesn't know if Jackie's amnesia is structural or psychological—or whatever he called it. He used a lot of five-dollar words."

"Yeah, doctors will do that."

"Right, I mean who calls a bruise a haematoma?" Eric shook his head in disgust. "Doctors and their fancy words. They make me feel like Kelso."

Hyde snorted softly, and Eric stole a glance. It was time to test the proverbial waters.

"Yeah, so the doctor said Jackie was pretty lucky—aside from the head injury, she came away with only a few scratches and bruises and some broken ribs. Could have been a lot worse, especially if she stayed longer in the coma. Risk of permanent brain injury and all that."

Hyde didn't respond, didn't even nod his head, although Eric was almost sure he saw the curly-haired rebel stiffen, if only for a half-second. Still, his friend was not emoting the way he wanted him to. It was time to pull out the big guns.

"Turns out she almost died."

"She _what_?" Hyde had dropped his arms and turned to face Eric completely.

"Yeah, before we left a nurse told us Jackie had flat-lined a few days ago—early Sunday, I think." He cocked his head to the side in a contemplative manner. "They still don't know why. I guess that's why they needed her medical history so badly. Don't know if it did any good, though."

Hyde's mouth curved downwards. "Sunday, huh?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing." He shrugged, a slight rise and fall of his shoulders, before pushing his sunglasses up his nose.

Eric's eyes narrowed, spotting the minuscule chink in Hyde's armour, and pressed his advantage. "You should come with us tomorrow," he said, making sure it sounded like a suggestion as opposed to an order or an obligation. "Even if it's just to say 'hi'."

"I don't say 'hi'." Hyde settled back into the chair. "I don't do small talk."

"Small talk is all you do, man; that and grunting."

"Hmm."

"Exactly! Just like that!"

"Forman—"

"Just visit once. Say _something_ to her, man."

Hyde's jaw clenched. "I've already said everything I needed to say to Jackie."

Eric exhaled sharply. He'd be the first to admit that he never understood Jackie's appeal or why his best friend sought out the annoying girl at the cost of his childhood friendship with Kelso, especially when Jackie Burkhart represented everything Steven Hyde loathed and repudiated. But Hyde had chosen Jackie, had fully accepted—nay, revelled in—their creepy and unnatural relationship. Sure, he still bitched about her shallowness and pushiness but he had been happy. Not that bullshit he spouted about being less pissed off.

Jackie had brought out the best in Hyde, had brought sunshine into his orphan boy heart. Yes, Hyde had been happy, maybe for the first time in his life, and now he was downright miserable and didn't have the balls to admit it.

"Whatever, man!" Eric jumped to his feet, visibly irate. "I don't know what's happened to you since I left, but it's like you're a whole other person now. The Hyde I knew was always there for Jackie, even when he didn't want to be. He took her to the prom, knocked out guys who called her names, took her out on dates, let her cry on his shoulder when Kelso messed up, when her parents abandoned her...

"That Hyde would never be such a dick to her like you are now, especially not with how things are for Jackie. It's just—it's just not cool, man!" Frustrated, Eric pointed an accusing finger at his best friend. "You're not cool, man! And you had better get your head out of your ass and get your act together soon!"

Turning on his heel, Eric stalked off and bounded up the stairs in suppressed rage, much like how Donna had earlier. Except Forman's anger actually affected Hyde.

Once his best friend was out of sight and he heard the slamming of his bedroom door, Hyde took off his aviators and leaned forward. Holding his head in his hands, he sighed—the tired, 'I'm-too-old-for-this-shit' kind of sigh.

He was conflicted with emotion. On one hand, he was impressed that his best friend had mustered the nerve to speak against him the way he did. It was apparent that Forman's trip to Africa had manned him up a bit. On the other hand, Hyde was angry—angry because he couldn't argue a damn point Forman made.

He was right.

And fuck it if Hyde didn't know what to do about it—about any of it anymore.

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

A/N: The chapter title, _Love Song_, is taken from AC/DC's _High Voltage_ album. It is the band's only love song (aptly named, right?); surprisingly sweet and sung wonderfully by Bon Scott. It very much reminds me of Jackie and Hyde, especially how Hyde thinks of Jackie.

'Five-dollar words' is a term originally coined by Mark Twain: "Don't use a five-dollar word when a fifty-cent word will do".


	8. I Wanna Be Sedated

A/N: Time-jump; because I can. ;) There will be several time-jumps in the next few chapters, so buckle up. Title by the Ramones.

* * *

I Wanna Be Sedated

**.**

**.**

**.**

_10 March 1980  
Milwaukee, Wisconsin  
Sacred Heart Rehabilitation Institute  
Columbia St Mary's Hospital_

**.**

**.**

JACKIE WISHED SHE could say she had some interesting experiences during her two-week stint at Sacred Heart, but that would be a bald-faced lie. Aside from meeting fellow brain-injured patients like herself, the majority of Jackie's time was spent reading, listening to music, and staring at the walls—oh, and rehabilitating her body and mind; and not the fun way with the euphoric mellow of Demerol. Instead, Jackie had to suffer through pain medication detox, physiotherapy, and daily sessions with Dr Keeton, the resident psychiatrist. The latter was the worst sort of torture to endure.

Carefully lying on her stomach, Jackie turned the page to her book. A shadow fell across the open doorway and a tall brunette on crutches poked her head inside.

"Hey, Ruby!" The girl giggled when Jackie jumped slightly on the bed.

"Chloe," Jackie muttered under her breath.

She shifted uncomfortably on the bed and winced as the pain shot up her ribs. Even with the cushioned binding, her entire upper torso felt like a _piñata_ someone had taken a bat to. She really shouldn't have been lying on her stomach to begin with, but the constant sitting and lying on her back for three weeks had driven her stir-crazy—along with the tedium of therapy. The mind-numbing boredom was one of the reasons she read so much.

Jackie resumed her reading, ignoring the tall brunette who hobbled into her room and took a seat on the bed. She set her crutches against the wall and leaned forward, casting a shadow over Jackie.

Tall with grey eyes, freckles, and straight honey-brown hair that fell halfway down her back, Chloe Stevenson was a rather cheery girl, despite her condition. She had been at Sacred Heart for a little over a month before Jackie arrived and, like Jackie, was also a brain injury patient; however, unlike Jackie, the twenty-two year old was an out-bound patient and had suffered far more extensive injuries, including a broken tibia.

"Whatchya reading?" Chloe peeked over Jackie's shoulder. "The Edible Woman?" She made a face. "Sounds gross."

Jackie merely shrugged in response and turned the page. Chloe was an okay girl, in small doses, but Jackie preferred her books over asinine questions—the kind that were posed and repeated almost every single day.

Of course it wasn't entirely Chloe's fault. She was suffering from a malfunctioning short-term memory known as anterograde amnesia, which meant she had difficulties retaining new memories while her long-term memory remained intact. Luckily Chloe's amnesia was low-grade, which essentially meant she was extremely forgetful. Unlike Jackie she had not incurred her amnesia through a traumatic event but rather through her abuse of psychotropic drugs, like LSD and acid. Her current injuries were an indirect result of her amnesia; she'd had a seizure while driving and steered her vehicle into a highway divider.

Okay, so maybe it was a little her fault.

"Where did you get all these books?"

It hadn't been the first time Chloe had asked that question and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Jackie had first told her the books were a gift from her 'friend' Donna, who had brought them on one of her visits. This much was true; however, explaining who Donna was all over again, as well as Jackie's own condition, wasn't something she felt like rehashing with Chloe at the moment, so she lied.

"Dr Keeton."

"Oh, right." Chloe nodded absently and examined her nails. "He's tried to give me a few books too. Like I'll be able to retain anything." She snorted. "Do you have an appointment with him today?"

Jackie nodded. She had an appointment with him every day. Her eyes went back to her novel.

"He's so weird," Chloe mused aloud. "All those pointless questions he asks."

Jackie nodded again. She couldn't agree more. Dr Keeton's questions were indeed pointless and asinine. Jackie couldn't answer most of them, which frustrated her to no end.

"So, where are you gonna go when you're released?"

Jackie paused, slipping her finger between the pages as a bookmark. She didn't quite know how to answer that. Donna had told her that her father was in jail and her mother was off somewhere in Mexico or Cuba—they didn't know where—and she had no real family to speak of. Her grandmother had left her some money, which paid for her medical bills and such, and apparently she had enough to live quite comfortably wherever she wanted. The problem was that Jackie didn't know _where_ she wanted to be or what she wanted to do—only that she wanted to leave this hospital; yesterday.

"Right, you're rich!" Chloe smacked her forehead, interrupting Jackie's train of thought. "I guess it doesn't matter where you go. My parents, on the other hand, want to send me Rancho Los Amigos, but I'm gonna to see if I can convince them to let me go to a holistic retreat."

"Rancho Los Amigos?"

"Yeah, it's this hospital in California." Chloe furrowed her brow in deep thought. "Uh, for brain injuries and stuff."

"Hmm."

A pained expression crossed Chloe's features as she tried to recall the purpose of the hospital and how it linked to neurological disorders, but it wasn't coming any time soon. Jackie was impressed the girl even knew how to pronounce Rancho Los Amigos or what holistic meant, but those must have been names and information she had retained before her psychedelic trip.

Jackie remembered Chloe telling her that she had qualified as a chemist. How was that for irony? Just to be able to form coherent sentences often took a lot of effort on Chloe's part, and Jackie found herself feeling sorry for the girl. As much as Chloe annoyed her with her incessant questions and forgetfulness, Jackie couldn't help but identify with her. While Jackie had her short-term memory intact, her long-term memory was gone. She knew that feeling of frustration—of trying to recall something lost, something that would not come back.

"Yeah, but it's all boring medical stuff like this place, y'know." Chloe motioned to their surroundings with a shrug. "I'd like to try out the New Age approach. Some yoga, some meditation, some herbal therapy—if you know what I mean." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "There's this retreat in Oregon. I can't remember the name of it, but I have a brochure in my room. It's got hot springs!"

Chloe sounded excited, and Jackie merely lifted a brow in contemplation. Maybe a retreat wouldn't be too bad. She could use some alternative therapy, as the sessions with Dr Keeton weren't at all successful in retrieving her memories. Plus, Oregon was a far more reasonable driving distance than California, which was a comforting thought considering Jackie had recently discovered that she had a fear of flying. This discovery had come about during a session with Dr Keeton (so maybe something good had come out of his therapy).

No overseas living for Ruby Tuesday (_née Jackie Burkhart_), unless she was taking a boat. But even then Jackie wasn't entirely sure how well she'd fare on the sea.

"So, where are you going?"

Jackie shrugged. "Probably back to Point Place for a bit, then figure it out from there."

"Cool, cool." Chloe smiled and shakily stood up, grabbing her crutches. "Well, I'm gonna go grab something to eat and head on to physio. I'll leave you to your reading. Bye-bye."

"Bye."

******.**

JACKIE HAD FINISHED reading _The Edible Woman_ just before two o'clock when a little beeper went off on her nightstand. She sat up with a grunt and reached over to turn off the alarm.

Dr Keeton had insisted that she set her alarm for every doctor's appointment as a reminder. She found the idea patronising. She didn't have short-term memory loss like the others, so it wasn't like she had to be reminded. But then Dr Keeton knew she didn't like going to her sessions; the alarm was probably more of a conditioning experiment than a reminder.

Slowly sloughing off the bed, Jackie grabbed a grey cardigan and pulled it on with a grumble. She set her book flat on her nightstand, hoping the page would keep. She'd have to invest in a bookmark at some point rather than ruining the spine or dog-earring the pages. Cinching the belt securely about her waist, Jackie stepped outside her room and closed the door behind her, just in case Chloe decided to be nosy and snoop in her absence.

"Hi, Mrs Gruben." Jackie greeted her next door neighbour with a small wave.

Mrs Gruben was a stout, elderly woman with short but carefully dressed white hair. She reminded Jackie of Beatrice Arthur from _Maude_. Funny how she could remember characters from TV shows but not people from her own life.

"Hello." The elderly woman was looking up at her with kind yet confused rheumatic blue eyes. "Do I know you, dear?"

"I'm Ruby, you're next door neighbour."

"Oh." The woman's eyes failed to light up with recognition but she feigned it out of politeness for Jackie's sake. "It's nice to meet you, Ruby. I'm Gladys Gruben." She extended a wrinkled yet soft hand and Jackie took it with a gentle shake.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs Gruben."

"Please, call me Gladys."

Jackie's own feigned smile widened almost painfully and she let go of the old woman's hand, motioning to the corridor. "Well, I've gotta go meet with the doctor now."

"What doctor?"

"Dr Keeton."

Mrs Gruben nodded, though she didn't seem to understand. Still, politeness was mandatory; a habit that the old woman had not forgot. "You take care, dear."

"I will." Jackie's smile waned. "You have a good day, Mrs Gruben."

The two parted ways, and Jackie strolled towards Dr Keeton's office. This wasn't the first introductory conversation Jackie'd had with Mrs Gruben and it wouldn't be the last. They'd have the exact same conversation when Jackie returned to her room within the hour. Such were the joys of rehabilitating at the Brain Injury ward at Sacred Heart.

Still, Jackie couldn't help but feel sorry for Mrs Gruben, like how she felt bad for Chloe. As annoying as Jackie's condition was—how frustrating and lonely it could be—she wasn't sure how she could handle not being able to retain her recent memories, to go through life forgetting everything and everyone.

Jackie strolled down the hall, her hands dug deep in her jeans pockets. Her expression was blank, giving no real clue as to what she was thinking. In plain truth, Jackie wasn't really thinking about anything. She catalogued each passer-by with a casual glance, and that was when her mind actually began its reeling and whirling.

No one really seemed to look at Jackie, to _see_ her. This was somewhat comforting since it meant that she could fly under the radar. But Jackie soon found herself scrutinising those strangers, trying to peek underneath the masks they wore. Everyone wore masks, she realised; everyone tried to mask their feelings and hide who they truly were. Everyone except Jackie. She wore no mask; she had nothing to hide.

Lost in thought, Jackie was only vaguely aware that she had arrived at Dr Keeton's office. She stared at the door and suddenly it opened. An elderly gentleman had advanced a few steps towards her with a briefcase in hand. He smiled genially at her and stepped past, allowing Jackie to look into the office.

Dr Keeton, a rather handsome man in his early forties, with sandy blond hair and a tiny Errol Flynn moustache, smiled and waved at her to enter.

"C'mon in, Jackie."

"Ruby," she corrected coldly, and stepped inside. _Here we go again_, she thought to herself with a grimace, and closed the door behind her.

******.**

******.**

******.**

"FLAMES WERE GOLFING, man!" Kelso's hands waved spasmodically in the air. "Golfing everywhere!"

Hyde's shoulders shook with repressed laughter as Kelso recounted the colourful tale of his latest workplace volition: burning down the dance floor at the nudie bar he ran security for.

"It's good to have you back, man."

"It's great to be back!" Kelso grinned and then pumped his fist triumphantly in the air. "Alright! Four-day weekend!"

"It is no four-day weekend for me, you sonuvabitch!" Fez pouted, clutching a brown paper bag in his hands. "So no keeping me up tonight or I will smother you in your sleep!"

"I can always stay with Donna." He waggled his eyebrows at the blonde and jumped down on the sofa to sit next to her. "How about it, Big D? Can I stay at your place?"

"Place? It's the tiniest bachelor apartment known to man." She folded her arms underneath her breasts. "And you're not staying, Kelso."

"Dammit!"

"You can stay with me, my friend," Fez said, reaching over to pat Kelso's knee. "I am just being grumpy because I am so alone and lonely and only have candy to fulfil my needs." He let out a big sigh. "Candy is a poor, yummy substitute."

Everyone sat back, looking a touch uncomfortable with their foreign friend and his needs, especially when he was cradling that mysterious brown paper bag so lovingly.

"So, how's the roommate fishing going?" Eric asked, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere; somewhere less creepy.

"Eh, a few nibbles." Fez shrugged dispassionately, hugging the paper bag even tighter to his chest. "But I sort of feel bad renting out Jackie's room. Where will she stay?"

"Jackie's rich now," Kelso said excitedly, pulling a lollipop from out of his pocket. "She can live wherever she wants, man. Like in a castle or something!"

"Kelso—" Donna sucked in a deep breath "—there are no castles in Point Place or the United States for that matter—not real ones, anyway."

"Yeah, well," he floundered. "My point is that she can live wherever she wants now, fictional or otherwise."

"Kelso—"

"Like Candy Land?"

"Fez, we've talked about this," Donna interrupted. "Candy Land isn't real."

"But Kelso just said—"

"Fez, we've talked about this too," Eric interjected. "No countering an argument by using Kelso's word as proof."

Fez bowed his head in defeat. "I am just so sad that Jackie will probably want to live somewhere else—not with me."

Hyde shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Fez was getting soppy again, and Hyde could handle only so many emotions coming from the foreigner at once. Just a few minutes ago they were all having some fun with Kelso back for the weekend and now the conversation had veered to Jackie. Why did it always come back to Jackie?

"Hey, so how's school going, Big D?"

"Yes, having fun matriculating with your fellow feminists?" Eric waggled his eyebrows suggestively while Donna playfully frogged him in the arm.

Donna was attending the Parkside campus for the University of Wisconsin. She planned to transfer to Madison with Eric for the Spring-Summer term, once Eric's scholarship was cleared. But Parkside was still a lot of fun, she had to admit, and it was nice to live in the city and experience campus life. Plus, she and Eric had their own private room whenever he came to visit.

"Courses are going well." She nodded, making eye contact with Hyde, knowing full-well that this was his way of steering the conversation away from Jackie. The dillhole still hadn't gone to visit her in the hospital, not even at the rehabilitation centre—and Donna wasn't about to forgive him for that. "Though I can't wait until Eric gets his scholarship so we can transfer to Madison together."

"Yes, the scholarship." Eric nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

He had left Africa earlier than intended; however, the program had still offered him a partial scholarship. He had yet to hear from Mr Green, though, the director of the Teach Abroad program in Africa, and he had been playing phone hockey with the Dean of Admission and Financial Aid since early January.

"You're gonna have to introduce me to your hot college friends," Kelso said to Donna, ignoring Eric entirely.

"Yeah, that's not likely to happen."

"What, are you embarrassed by me?"

"In the worst possible way."

"Now I know you're lying." Kelso waved his lollipop at her. "I'll have you know all the ladies love me."

"So is that why Jackie keeps asking me to tell you not to visit her anymore?"

Hyde couldn't help but grin at this. At least amnesia Jackie had some sense. He had heard about Kelso dogging Jackie on her looks the moment he saw her after she woke up, and he was glad to hear she hadn't put up with Kelso's bullshit. Donna had shared a few other stories where Jackie had expertly burned Kelso, and Hyde had almost wished he had been there to see it.

"Jackie's so not hot anymore." Kelso let out a dramatic sigh, stretching his long legs out underneath the table.

"Kelso!" Donna sat up, looking ready to smack their dumb-witted friend upside his head. "She was in a car accident!"

"No, that's not it." Kelso shifted away from Donna, as though he could sense she was about to hit him. "She's still physically hot; it's just—Jackie's not Jackie anymore. She doesn't yell or order me around. Whenever I'm there all she does is read or listen to music or tell me to go away."

"It is strange to not hear Jackie's shrill voice," Fez agreed lamentably. "My bitchy goddess is gone."

"Exactly," said Kelso. "Her bitchy hotness is gone."

Hyde crossed his arms across his chest and began drumming his fingers on his left biceps. He had no idea why or what exactly he was annoyed about, but this constant talk of Jackie had to stop. She wasn't even here and she had invaded the circle.

"Well, you'll be able to see her this weekend." Eric looped an arm around Donna's shoulder.

_What?_

"What?" Donna turned, vocalising Hyde's thoughts.

Jackie was going to be here, in Point Place? This was getting too real too fast.

"She's being released from the hospital. Red's picking her up on Saturday."

"To bring her here?"

"No, he's taking her to the Wichita cotillion," Eric deadpanned. "Red himself is presiding as host."

Donna frogged her boyfriend in the arm but smiled. "Smartass."

"So she's staying here at your parents' place?" Kelso asked, sparing Fez a glance. The foreign boy's face was conflicted with emotion; happy that Jackie would be home but sad that she wouldn't be staying with him.

"Far as I know."

Donna folded her arms underneath her breasts with a pout. "Crap! I really wish I could be here, but I have that stupid thing."

"Yes." Eric nodded. "We all have those stupid things."

"Shut up." Donna frogged him in the arm again, and Eric winced at the pain before rubbing his soon-to-be bruised biceps.

"Is it another Take Back The Night rally?"

"No, that's the next week." Donna flashed her boyfriend a wicked grin. "I have a group project due next Wednesday, and we can only all get together this weekend."

"Ah, the woes of academia."

Donna grinned and elbowed her boyfriend in the ribs before a serious expression settled on her face. "It's gonna be a bit bizarre having her back here, isn't it? I mean with her not remembering everything." Everyone except Hyde nodded. "I wonder how long she'll stay here. She still has a lot recovering to do—and therapy."

"Donna, relax," said Eric. "Jackie's the devil; she'll recover with the help of Satan."

A fist flew out, frogging Eric in the arm a little harder than he was used to, and he cried out in pain. He glared contemptuously at the culprit.

"Oww. Hyde? What was that for?"

"Just reminding you that you're working with me this weekend." Hyde grinned and settled back in his seat. "So no taking off to Donna's."

"Oh boy!" Eric cried with feigned enthusiasm. "Employment by The Man!" Hyde scowled at this but decided to ignore Eric's slight—just this once.

"You know," Donna began wistfully, "I think school would be good for Jackie." When the guys looked at the blonde like she had grown a second head, Donna suddenly sat up and brought her fingers to her mouth. "Oh my God, what if we end up at the same university!"

"And you're excited about this?" Eric's brow creased as he turned his palms upwards in a shrug.

"Donna, you do recall that Jackie said college was for ugly girls," Fez reminded her, but Donna waved her hand, unconvinced.

"Yeah, but that was the old Jackie. The new Jackie—" She stopped herself short. For some reason it felt wrong referring to Jackie as old and new. In fact, she felt rather sheepish for labelling her at all.

"I am off to get ready for work," Fez announced suddenly, standing to his feet as he clutched the brown bag to his chest. "And to see if anyone has replied to my 'Roommate Wanted' ad in the paper."

"Search not going well, huh?" Kelso asked, and Fez shook his head.

"No bitchy goddesses have applied," he said, looking rather dejected. "Just bitches and sons-of-bitches."

Kelso nodded sympathetically and stuck his lollipop in the side of his cheek. "You know I'd move back in with you if I could, little buddy."

"Hey, considering his luck with fire and employment, he might be your roommate again soon," Eric suggested, and Kelso nodded in agreement.

"He's right."

"Thanks," Fez mumbled, heaving a heavy sigh. "I bid a good day to you all."

"But, Fez—"

His free hand flew up. "I said 'good day'!"

Once Fez half-slunk, half-stormed out of the basement, Eric shrugged. "What's up with him, lately?"

"Probably the roommate situation," Donna said. "It's stressing him out."

"Naw, he's just depressed cause Jackie refused to marry him."

Eric and Donna stared at Kelso agape, and then slowly turned to look at Hyde. Their curly-haired friend had abruptly swivelled around on his chair to face the unsuspecting Kelso.

"Why the hell would he do that!" Hyde spat, entirely livid. "She was just in a serious accident and has amnesia, man, and he thinks _this_ is the perfect time to propose?"

"What? No." Kelso snorted, unaware of Eric and Donna frantically pantomiming the kill signal. "He proposed to her on Valentine's Day."

"Kelso!"

"Dumbass!"

Hyde turned his attention to Donna and Eric, his featured darkening. "You guys knew?" Anger and betrayal laced his tone.

"Sorry, man." Eric shrugged helplessly. "We couldn't tell you. It was Fez's choice, not ours."

Hyde's jaw clenched. "Just like telling Kelso about me and Jackie was _our_ choice?" He dug his nails into his palms and tried not to fly off into a rage.

"He didn't want you to know yet," Donna said hesitantly, and Hyde just folded his arms over his chest and shrugged.

"Whatever, man."

Hyde sat in his seat, silently fuming, tapping his boot on the floor while trying to keep his external coolness in check. The others were quiet, silently watching, silently judging. He was brooding and he knew it and he couldn't stop himself. Fez had proposed to Jackie. Jackie was coming back this weekend. He was going to see her again. No more avoiding her. For the first time in months, since Sam had arrived on the Formans' doorstep, he could no longer pretend Jackie was a distant memory.

Setting his jaw, he unfolded his arms and stood up. Screw this; screw them all! They could think what they wanted. He needed to get out of there and have a drink; fast. He grabbed his jacket and took off out the basement door without another word.

Once the echo of his footfalls died, Donna let out a heavy sigh. "He's going to be an asshole to her again. I just know it."

Her comment was greeted by silence until the sound of a lollipop popping out of Kelso's mouth was heard. "Donna, you worry too much," he said, although he did appear slightly concerned. "Everything's gonna be fine."

"How do you figure, Kelso?"

He turned to look at Donna, a rare serious expression on his face. "Cause deep-down Hyde loves Jackie."

"I dunno, Kelso," Donna said, unconvinced. "You weren't here when Hyde treated Jackie like shit. But I was—" she suddenly stood up "—and I'm not going to stand by and watch it happen again!"

With that Donna turned on her heel and bounded up the stairs to the kitchen; the second dramatic exeunt in two minutes—third in five. Eric sighed as he watched his girlfriend storm off and then turned to Kelso.

"Still not worried?"

Kelso shook his head. "I'm not a pessimist like the rest of you guys." He waggled his lollipop at Eric. "I am an optometrist!"

Eric smiled thinly and patted his friend on the shoulder. "It's good to have you back, man."

**.**

**.**

**.**

DR KEETON WAS waiting patiently.

She knew he wanted her to talk, to open up, but in all honesty Jackie didn't know what to say. What was there to talk about? She had no recollection of her past, no clear grasp of her personality, which included any flaws or anxieties she might have. She couldn't complain about things she couldn't remember or consciously place blame on her parents or environment for her current state because, well, she couldn't remember any of it. All she wanted to do right now was cut the session short and make a quick exit, but there was no way the good doctor would allow that.

"I don't know what you want me to say." Jackie shrugged, feigning ignorance. She had figured he wanted her to open up about how she was feeling right now, but that would only be insulting—to him.

"I want you to say whatever is on your mind."

Jackie sank into the plush chair with a groan. What she needed right now was to be sedated; high or asleep was the only way Jackie figured anyone could tolerate such tedious, self-indulgent banality.

"How are your friends?"

Jackie wanted to say that she didn't have any friends, but she didn't want to open up the floodgate of questioning that topic would produce, so she just shrugged with her elbows pointing outwards. "Alright, I guess."

"Do you enjoy seeing them?"

Jackie shrugged again. She couldn't say she hated seeing them, but she couldn't say she felt excited or comfortable either. The only presence she didn't mind so much was Eric's. He was the only one who didn't regard her with guilt or pity.

Donna and Fez always looked guilty or shameful; whereas Kelso just looked stupid. But as much as the pretty boy insulted her or liked to remind her of how many times they 'did it', she just couldn't stay mad at him. He was like a puppy that piddled on the carpet. Sure, you were angry at first but you just couldn't stay angry. However, Jackie was quickly realising she was more of a cat person; cats required less maintenance, and they peed in a litter box.

"They visit you fairly often, don't they?"

Another shrug.

"How do their visits make you feel?"

"Frustrated. Angry." She didn't want to tell him this, but if she didn't give him something he'd pry until he got his answers, one way or another. This way she could give them to him on her terms.

"And why is that?"

"Because I can't give them what they want."

"Which is?"

"Hope." She shrugged. "Recognition..." She paused. "Jackie."

Dr Keeton smiled and tented his fingers. "Speaking of Jackie—" he leaned forward and Jackie internally winced, knowing she had given him his in "—why do you refuse to go by that name?"

She sighed. They went over this almost every session, and she always gave him the same answer. "Because Jackie is who I was before the accident."

"And now you are Ruby?"

Jackie nodded.

"I know I've asked you before—why Ruby?—and I still want you to question why you call yourself that, but now I'm curious. Your friends who have visited you, you allow them to call you Jackie and yet they know nothing of Ruby. Why is that?"

"Cause Jackie's their past; why ruin it for them?" She shrugged, her expression blank. "They want to call me that name, they can. But it means nothing to me."

"And you want your friends to mean nothing to you?"

Jackie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I don't know. I'm just sick of seeing that look in their eyes."

"What look?"

"Like they're waiting for me to wake up and remember everything. They see who I was, not who I am. They have all these expectations but, like I said, I can't give them what they want."

"And you don't want to disappoint them?"

Jackie huffed and dropped her arms. "I want people to actually listen to me when I speak, to leave me alone when I tell them to." She curled her hands into tight fists, feeling the anger swell inside her for the first time—real anger, not just frustration. "I want them to stop pushing, to stop pressing, to stop trying to fix me!" She gave the doctor a look that was not lost on him. "But no one is really listening or caring, and maybe I don't care either."

After that Jackie had gone silent, and the rest of the hour was spent talking about her feelings in the present—how she felt about her friend Chloe, what she liked to do in her spare time, how she was feeling in general. The time eked by. Then Dr Keeton glanced down at his watch and smiled thinly.

"Well, that's our last session." He barely finished his sentence before Jackie was on her feet and heading towards the door. "I'd like to refer you to another psychiatrist in Point Place."

Jackie turned around. "Point Place?"

"Yes, the Formans will be taking you back to their home to stay until you decide what you want to do."

"With my life?" she supplied blankly.

"More or less." He stood up and walked over to his desk. "How do you feel about this—going with the Formans?"

"They seem nice." She remembered them well, especially the exuberant Mrs Forman who was always bringing her something to eat and asking her how she was doing. She was very much the motherly sort—the type of mother figure Jackie obviously lacked in her life since her own mother hadn't bothered to come check on her. "They talked about this with me before and, well, I guess it makes sense for me to go back to Point Place for the time-being."

"But?"

"But I don't know if it's where I want to be," she admitted freely, and the doctor nodded.

"It's understandable to be apprehensive. The Formans will provide you with a stable living environment while you decide what you want to do with your life. If I could offer you some advice, I'd tell you to take your time with your decision; weigh your options. But remember that you can leave any time you like. You are not forced to stay anywhere."

Jackie nodded, feeling a little more relaxed. It was nice to know that she wasn't going to be confined any longer. She could do what she wanted. And although she didn't know what that was quite yet, knowing that she could pack up and leave whenever she wanted made her breathe a little easier. She felt free, no longer the caged bird she had been these past few weeks.

"And please see Dr Ridge." Dr Keeton handed her a business card. "I think you'll like her."

Jackie took the card and nodded sceptically, but afforded the doctor a small smile of thanks.

"Good luck, Ruby."

Jackie grinned for the first time in ages. "Thanks, Doc."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"SINCE WHEN DID we become the Loud One's guardians?"

Kitty's eyes narrowed on her husband's and she placed a slender hand on her hip. "Red, we're the only responsible adults in Jackie's life right now. She's vulnerable. Besides, Jack said this was only temporary until Jackie was able to manage her own finances. Would you rather her floozy of a mother be in charge? She'd clean out Jackie's account in less than a day."

Red made a non-committal reply in the form of a grunt, suggesting that he agreed with his wife's assessment. Pam Burkhart wasn't exactly known for taking her daughter's best interest at heart. If she could get away with it, she'd probably rob her daughter blind and leave her out in the cold.

Luckily for Jackie no one could touch her trust fund but herself. She was in possession of what was known as a dynasty trust—a trust set up by a grandparent for her grandchild. Since Jack was the appointed trustee he was able to remove the age limitation on the trust and release the money to Jackie earlier than intended. However, Jack was in prison and unable to execute the funds directly, and Jackie couldn't arrange for them herself due to her current condition. So that left Red and Kitty.

Jack had decided that in lieu of a money-grubbing lawyer, he would appoint Red and Kitty Forman as temporary executors of Jackie's trust fund. While Red wasn't too keen on the idea, what with all the extra work it would involve, Jack assured him that it was only temporary; until Jackie was cognitively capable of handling her own finances.

In return the Formans would be given a substantial compensatory fee. More than that, Kitty felt comfortable knowing that Jackie's finances would be secure with them instead of someone like Pam. Unwilling to argue with his wife, Red had agreed. Jackie didn't need people taking advantage of her in her current state.

In addition to her financial affairs, there was her physical and psychological state due to the accident. The psychiatrist had informed them that while cases like Jackie's were rare, Jackie herself could become somewhat unpredictable, as they would never know when she would get her memories back. The doctors still hadn't been able to say with certainty that Jackie's amnesia wasn't due to structural damage; however, with every passing day it looked far more certain that her condition was psychological.

Dr Keeton had warned them on their last visit that those with dissociative fugue like Jackie were prone to unplanned travel or wandering and often exhibited a closed-off personality, and sometimes even the establishment of a new identity. He had suggested that with a strong familial foundation and regular therapy Jackie would be less inclined to wander and would recover quicker. It seemed the only way to keep Jackie put was if she had a constant presence in her life, like the Formans and her friends.

But what really had Kitty insisting that Jackie stay with them was the young girl's potential heart condition. Kitty had learnt from Jackie's physician that the Burkhart family had a history of heart problems. Dr Connors had referred Jackie to a specialist in Chicago, insisting she meet with her doctor regularly at Point Place as well, and Kitty planned on having Jackie keep those appointments.

All they had to do was convince Jackie to come live with them, and stay.

**.**

**.**

******.**

EARLY SATURDAY MORNING Jackie was packing, throwing a few articles of clothing into a small pink suitcase.

She grimaced at the colour. Donna had brought it to her a few weeks ago, along with some clothing and assorted books. The blonde had insisted that pink was Jackie's favourite colour, but she was dubious. It was just so... pink.

She went back and forth from the open bureau to the bed where her pink suitcase lay, dragging her feet as she went. She made sure to pack the brochure Chloe had given her the other day, as well as said her goodbyes to the older girl.

Jackie had been hesitant—not about leaving this place because she was dreadfully bored of the dull and repetitive routine. She was just unsure if Point Place would be better for her. Here everyone was equal in their trauma, at least in some way. Everyone was missing something; everyone wasn't quite right in the head. At 'home' Jackie would be expected to fit in and adapt, to eventually remember everything so things went back to 'normal'.

But what if she didn't remember? What if her memories never came back? Right now _this_ was her normal.

Jackie suddenly felt dizzy and her stomach clenched. She closed her eyes tightly and began rubbing at her temples where a migraine was beginning to form. She got a lot of those recently, headaches and migraines, usually followed by a long bout of insomnia. Dr Keeton had prescribed Percocet for the migraines (since he couldn't prescribe Zomig because of her not yet diagnosed heart condition) and sleeping pills for the insomnia. She wasn't allowed to take either until the pain medication was completely out of her system, which would be by Sunday.

She couldn't wait.

When she finally opened her eyes, bursts of stars crossed her vision and she blinked them away. Then there was a sudden flurry of knocks on her door, so fast and light they almost seemed to collide with each other. Whirling around, Jackie felt as if she was moving in slow motion or underwater. She'd have to take those pills soon or she'd be fainting by the afternoon. Three more knocks followed, although these ones were decidedly slower and even.

Had she imagined the flurry of knocks before?

"Jackie?"

Jackie blinked twice and stumbled her way across the room. When she opened the door, she was confronted by the familiar sight of a gruff-looking older man with balding red hair.

"Mr Forman." She breathed uneasily, and rested a hand on top of her heart as though she had been startled; and she had. "Sorry about that. Come in." She opened the door wide and went back to her suitcase. "I'm almost ready."

Red stepped inside the door but kept underneath the threshold. He took in a shallow breath and glanced around Jackie's room. It was small, white, and sparsely furnished, but the window had a nice lake view. Still, it seemed sort of lonely.

"Need a hand?"

Jackie shook her head and closed the suitcase with a double snap. "Nope. Not much to pack, except these books to return to Donna." She held up the pink case to indicate that she was quite capable of carrying such weight on her own.

"Listen." Red cleared his throat uncomfortably and fully stepped inside the room, warily closing the door behind him so it was only slightly ajar. He didn't want anyone to overhear, and he knew how nosey people could be in hospitals, especially nurses. "As you know Kitty wants you living with us until you sort _things_ out, but just know that you don't have to." He then raised his hands slightly. "Not that I'm saying you're not welcome, because you are. I just don't want you to feel pressured."

"I don't."

"Okay, then." Red grunted and shoved his hands into his pockets.

This girl was so different and yet the same somehow. He didn't quite know how to talk to her, not that he ever did, but he was certainly glad she wasn't blubbering or acting happy. Her blank expression worried him somewhat, though he'd never voice his mild concern.

"Another thing." He dug a hand out of his pocket and pointed a gnarled finger at her in an almost accusatory manner, though she did not recoil from him. "We might be the executors of your trust or whatever, but whenever you're ready to meet with a lawyer to turn everything over to you—" he dropped his hand and shrugged uncomfortably "—you just say the word."

"Thanks, Mr Forman." A genuine smile crossed Jackie's features and she nodded. "I appreciate that. Not just the trust fund but, y'know—" she shrugged uncomfortably like he had "—not making me feel pressured and all."

Red nodded once and then brought his hands forward. "Well, let's get your things in the car." He then took the suitcase from Jackie's hand and led her towards the exit.

Once outside, Jackie took one last look at her room and turned to her neighbour and waved. "Bye, Mrs Gruben." The elderly woman gave Jackie a confused smile but waved back.

Jackie then took in a deep breath and followed Mr Forman out of the hospital. She was going home.

**.**

**.**

**.**


	9. Brown Eyed Girl

Brown Eyed Girl

**.**

**.**

**.**

_15 March 1980  
Point Place, Wisconsin  
The Formans' Basement_

**.**

**.**

EARLY IN THE afternoon Hyde awoke with the feeling that he had slept long enough. He stretched languidly in bed, glancing around his old room in the basement. It was a comfort to him; dark, small and neat, sparsely furnished, and familiar. It reminded him of older times; lazy days when he'd lie in bed with a certain brown-eyed girl and they'd do nothing but touch, familiarising themselves with each other's skin.

He sat up in his cot and palmed his face with a yawn. Glancing up, he caught his reflection in the small mirror above the bureau. He looked tired and unkempt. His curly honey-coloured hair was falling down on his forehead and his moustache was awry. Even his eyebrows looked rough and tousled. He had awoken from a restless night filled with dreams, dreams he couldn't remember but knew they were of her.

On the table across from the cot sat a chess game neatly laid it out. He stared at it for a moment, breathing heavily. The game was unfinished. A memory of Jackie sitting across from him surfaced; her leaning over the board with her dark hair parting like curtains as she moved her king's bishop to C4 with a smirk. A ghost of a grin passed over his own lips at the recollection, then vanished just as quickly.

He sat motionless with his dull blue eyes open and his palms turned upwards. He never noticed it before but his hands were huge to him; wide palms with long thick fingers that were somehow proportionate. When he held them up to his face he saw that they were scratched and bruised—and the veins on the top were corded and swollen as though he had been grasping hard at something for a long time in his sleep. But they were still the same hands that cupped the back of Jackie's head when he'd draw her in for a kiss, the same hands that'd travelled to her hips as he pulled her in to dance, the same hands that'd freely roamed the expanse of her body as she writhed beneath him.

Jackie. _Damn it all_. More thoughts of Jackie.

Hyde groaned and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he held his head in his hands. Fucking Jackie was inside his brain again. It was relentless; _she_ was relentless, and she would never be dismissed. It didn't help that she was coming home today, staying in the same house with him. He wished he could avoid her, banish her from his mind and from his heart, but he couldn't. He wasn't sure if he ever had.

It had been easier when Sam was around; his straying thoughts had been kept to a minimum. Sam had been easy—Sam had been a welcome distraction. With Sam on his lap and in his bed he didn't have to worry about Jackie invading his thoughts quite as much as she did. He didn't have to be constantly reminded of the smell of her hair as it fell across his chest or the feel of her skin against his as they made love or the sweet whimpering sounds she made as she lay naked beneath him.

Memories came flooding back, confusing his mind all at once. They were fleeting at first: them sitting together on his chair, feeling her comfortable weight on his lap; his hand on the back of her neck as her soft lips sought his. Sighs, moans, heated touches and sweet releases. Then the memories became specific. Jackie turning on the record player, dancing slow and steady to _Sweet Emotion_. She'd close her eyes and sway her body in beat with the bass, then grab him by the hips and pull him in close. His hands would travel down her back, cupping her ass as she ground her tight little body into his. Her mouth would find his neck, and he'd close his eyes and groan, moving to the rhythm she had created. Then his hands would slide up her back, seeking purchase in the silken weight of her hair, pulling her head back so that he could have access to her throat.

Soft whimpers would escape her mouth and before long he'd have her on her back on his cot, tasting her lips as her hands reached up under his shirt, scraping her nails along the hard plane of his stomach. Then he'd stop and prop himself up on his forearms to watch her eyes flutter open, half-lidded with desire. Swollen pink lips would part, an impatient tongue darting along her upper lip, and she'd smile up at him coyly.

He loved the way she smiled, loved the way she looked at him—like he was her entire world. Then her fingers would tangle into his hair, tugging until it hurt, and she would laugh, turning his dark sky bright with her sunlight.

Hyde's palms ran the course of his face and he cursed silently, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. He sighed. These damn thoughts wouldn't leave him. She was haunting his waking thoughts like a curse.

Righting himself, he snatched his aviators from the nook and slipped them onto his face, feeling a little safer. He slid his hands down the length of his thighs and took in a deep, steadying breath before rising to his feet. It was time to get this shit over with.

**.**

HYDE WAS ALREADY showered and dressed within fifteen minutes, determined to leave the house as quickly as possible.

Though he was starving, he would have to pick up something to eat on the way to the store. Knowing Jackie and Red would show up at any moment, Hyde planned his exit through the kitchen, figuring Red would bring Jackie around front. Luckily Mrs Forman was on day-shift at the hospital, so his escape would be quick, clean and easy.

Throwing on his boots, he grabbed his keys and jacket and made a beeline for the veranda door. Opening it wide, he was about to take a step outside when he came face to face with a wide-eyed Jackie.

"Whoa," she breathed, taking a leap back. "Sorry about that."

She was dressed in dark jeans and a navy blue pea coat. It was the same outfit she had worn when he had told her to leave the basement; the same night her vehicle had careened into a tree, causing her to lose her memory. He swallowed hard at the sight of her, his throat constricting almost painfully. His fingers trembled slightly on the door handle and he tried to convince himself it was the cold that made him shake so, not this ghostly vision standing before him.

Jackie remained stationary at the door, a small pink suitcase gripped tightly in her hands. At least a foot separated them, but to Hyde it only felt like centimetres. Her soft brown eyes were intently scanning his face, as though she was trying to register him from somewhere. Her breath crystallised in the air as she exhaled and her lips parted to speak when Red knocked his boots on the side of the porch and grunted.

"Steven."

"Yeah?" Lost in a daze, Hyde caught Red's hard look and cleared his throat. "I mean, yes?"

"You gonna stand there all day with your mouth open, heating the damn driveway or step aside so Jackie and I can come in?"

Hyde quickly snapped his mouth shut and stepped to the side, mumbling a barely coherent apology. Jackie entered first, her shoulder brushing against his chest as she made room for Red. She mouthed a quiet apology of her own as Red barrelled inside, closing the door behind him. Almost tentatively, she raised her chin and glanced up at Hyde; their eyes met for one heart-stopping second before she turned back to Red, following his directions by taking off her boots.

"Where do you want me to put these?"

"In the living room," Red said with a jerk of his head, directing her to the swing-door that he was already making his way through.

Hyde backed up to give her space, but as Jackie made to move past him into the living room they began an odd sort of dance—both going left together, then right. After a few awkward steps, they stopped and exhaled in frustration.

"Excuse me," she said quietly, standing still so Hyde could move aside first. Her head wasn't down like she was shy, but she wasn't exactly looking him in the eye either. Her entire body language read differently than before, not quite demure but reserved, closed off. It unnerved him.

Finally, he stepped aside and Jackie brushed past him, the skin of her bare hand touching his as she moved. A barely audible gasp escaped her lips and she turned to meet his gaze, her eyes widening in shock. It was as though an electrical current had swept through them both.

Hyde was breathing heavily, his heart rattling against its cage. Thoughts of touching her stole over him all at once; his fingers grazing over her swollen lips, palms gliding over every inch of her delicate olive skin as his mouth found the tender spot on the pulse of her neck. He shook his head once, trying to wake himself from the torturous reverie.

No, no he had to put these thoughts out of his mind. He had to. Jackie wasn't his to touch anymore; she wasn't his to hold or kiss or think of this way. Hell, Jackie wasn't even Jackie anymore.

"I gotta go," he said breezily enough, but his mind was screaming.

She was too close, too tempting. He had to leave, and now. And like what Hyde usually did when confronted by his feelings for Jackie—dormant or otherwise—he fled.

**.**

**.**

**.**

LATER THAT AFTERNOON Jackie was visited by Fez, who offered to take her over to the apartment they once shared together. Jackie had been hesitant at first, not because she didn't trust Fez (well, she might not have fully trusted him, but then she didn't really trust anyone) but because she wasn't entirely keen on revisiting her old life. At least not yet.

But Fez had persuaded her that she could pick up some clothes, and she had to admit that a larger selection of shirts and underwear than what she had in her small pink suitcase would be nice. Of course she could have gone shopping for new clothes at the mall, but she didn't want to chance being recognised and asked a lot of annoying question. This was a small suburb town after all. So to Fez's place she went.

"Jackie, my beautiful goddess," the foreigner said with a flourish, opening the door to the small two-bedroom apartment. "Welcome home."

Jackie stepped inside, rubbing the ridge of her ear. "Uh, thanks."

She was never quite sure how to respond to Fez's praise. He lauded her beauty quite often, as though it was commonplace, and Jackie figured her old self was probably flattered. Her current self, however, was uncomfortable.

"So this is where I lived, huh?"

"Mhm. This is your bedroom right here." He opened the door and waved his hand around. "I kept it how you left it, except for Kelso's things over there." He pointed to the knapsack resting on a chair near a small desk.

Kelso himself wasn't there, thankfully. He was currently visiting with his parents but would return later that night. Yet another reason why Jackie could not to stay in this apartment with Fez, and it made her feel somewhat grateful for the Formans' offer.

Just then the phone rang and Fez promptly excused himself. Jackie used this opportunity to enter the room unescorted, taking in the pink décor with a grimace. Donna was right; she really did like the colour pink.

Walking up to the bed, Jackie eyed the stuffed animal collection with some disdain. Did she really need that many plush toys? When she was young she must have went through a 'I must collect a million stuffed animals and perch them on the end of my bed for obvious childish aesthetic purposes but alternatively convince any boy who enters my room that I am a raving unicorn-loving lunatic and creep him out, thereby reducing the contraction of cooties' phase. Or at least Jackie hoped the latter was part of her former self's fetish reasoning.

However, this didn't seem all that likely since Fez had clearly pointed out that this was her room only a short month ago. It was safe to say that this childish phase of former Jackie had not yet passed with adulthood. There was still a small flotilla of the creepiest, most reflective button-black-eyed unicorns and teddy bears sitting at the end of her erstwhile bed. And all too quickly Jackie suddenly felt like fleeing the room, screaming in terror as she imagined pink and rainbow-dyed polyester chasing after her down the hall.

Her planned flight from stuffed toy hell, however, was cut short by Fez.

"That was work," he announced, clasping his hands together in excitement. "Cindy and Suzi called in sick and the salon is short stylists. The manager asked me to fill in. Depending on how well I do, I might be promoted from shampoo boy to stylist extraordinaire!"

Jackie lifted her palms. "Yay?"

"I know! Isn't it exciting?" Fez clapped, jumping up and down before composing himself. "What am I going to wear?" He glanced over at Jackie, a wistful yet sad smile surfacing on his lips. "I miss our catwalk fashion shows."

Jackie blinked twice. Had she heard him right? What exactly went on in this apartment, and was this guy really her boyfriend?

"Right," she began slowly, drawing out the syllable. "Listen, if you could just tell me which bus to take back to the Formans, I'll be out of your hair."

"Jackie Burkhart taking a bus?" Fez scoffed, placing a hand on his hip. "No, we won't be having any of that. I can take you back or—" a light bulb seemed to switch on above his head "—hey, would you like to come to the salon with me? You can see a bit of the town, do some shopping. And whenever you're bored I can call Eric or Kelso to pick you up and take you back to the Formans."

Jackie considered the idea. It would be nice to get out. She had spent so much time cooped up indoors. "Sure." She shrugged. "Why not."

"Fabulous." Fez clapped his hands. "You're in for a real treat. You get to watch my magic fingers in action." He then used those magic fingers to shoo her back into her old room. "Now, why don't you pack some clothes while I get ready." He then turned around and headed to his own room. "Ai! So much to do, so little time!"

Jackie listened as the door shut and she turned towards her closet. She took in a deep breath and sighed. "Great. I'll just do that, then."

**.**

**.**

**.**

JACKIE HAD SPENT a record three whole minutes with Fez at the salon.

She had forgot that he had once mentioned that she worked there with him as a hair sweeper, so when they walked in the door, her anxiety instantly mounted. Her unease wasn't necessarily a result of her being reminded of once holding a menial position (okay, it played a relatively big part) but because there were people here who knew who she was and were asking her questions—invasive questions.

Those who weren't trying their best to pry or prod information from her were giving her long looks of sympathy. Jackie couldn't deal with their pity or their hollow, meaningless words, so she decided to extract herself from her current situation. This, of course, meant fleeing the salon.

Perhaps returning to Point Place wasn't such a good idea after all.

After swiftly excusing herself, Jackie toured the street of small shops, peeking in at the numerous boutiques—going into some but avoiding those that were crowded. She stopped in at a book store and picked up a copy of _Sophie's Choice_ before stepping back out onto the snowy pavement and wondering where to go next. She really didn't feel like returning to the salon or the Formans yet, but she didn't really know where to go or what to do in this unfamiliar town.

She slowly strolled along Main Street, barely noticing the cars and buses that snored past her. She could feel a headache coming on and she reached into her coat pocket for her Percocet. After a moment's thought she shoved them back into her pocket, deciding that this new-forming headache was merely being brought on from the stress of being lost, of being set loose in unfamiliar territory. All she needed to do was find a quiet, warm place where she could sit down and relax with her book; then the headache would eventually ebb away with the stress.

After travelling another block Jackie was standing in front of a music store called _Grooves_. She shrugged and decided why not—listening to some music might settle her down a bit. Besides, she needed to expand on her record collection.

Pushing her way through the doors, she took in the décor of the place. It was obviously a hard rock-oriented music shop, what with an entire wall dedicated to Led Zeppelin. But it was stylish and somewhat modern and held the faint and nostalgic aroma of incense. In the middle of the store was a pit with a table, sofa, and a few loveseats for lounging. The place was rather inviting, she had to admit; even with the acid rock of AC/DC playing in the background just low enough not to wholly distract.

"Hey, what's the devil doing here?"

Jackie spun to her left, coming face to face with a grinning Eric Forman. She lifted an eyebrow in surprise at not just his sudden appearance but how he had addressed her. "Devil?"

"Sorry, force of habit." He shrugged sheepishly and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Devil was my nickname for you."

"I see." Jackie didn't bother to ponder why she would be given such a notorious nickname. Instead, she tilted her head back and examined the lanky young man standing before her. "And what did I call you?"

"Me?" Twitchy. Scrawny Geek Boy. Star Wars Freak. "You called me The Kid."

"The Kid?"

"Yeah, The Kid." Eric squirmed under her intense scrutiny. "That's what you called me."

Jackie scrunched up her nose in mild distaste before slowly shaking her head. "Yeah, I'm not calling you The Kid."

"Dammit!"

Jackie smirked and turned at the imperceptible movement coming from the far corner of the store. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of the man she had seen previously that afternoon at the Formans. He was standing over the bins with his head down, poring over record albums before ticking his pen on the clipboard he held in his other hand.

Swiftly snapping her mouth shut, Jackie tried to avert her eyes but they were somehow drawn back to him like a magnet. She let her gaze drift over his form for a moment. He was wearing jeans and a KISS t-shirt that accentuated the broad planes of his chest and moulded over the taut muscles of his abdomen. He looked like a band roadie—a fit band roadie, but a band roadie nonetheless.

A pair of amber aviators shielded his eyes, preventing her from seeing their colour and depth. She had a feeling he had deep eyes, the kind that could pierce through her soul. Shaking her head, Jackie tried to escape the ridiculous fantasy she was painting, but it was a futile effort. Her gaze instinctively returned to him, surreptitiously scanning his features and centring on his nose, watching how his nostrils gently flared as he breathed.

He had a boyish face, despite the long, scruffy sideburns and the porn 'stach that he could have done without. But what really captured her attention, aside from the mysterious draw of his eyes, was his curly honey-coloured hair. It looked incredibly soft to the touch and she wanted nothing more than to spear her fingers through it and test how soft it truly was.

It was a powerful attraction she felt for him; one without precedent in her life. This didn't strike Jackie as particularly odd; she had less than three weeks of life under her belt thanks to her amnesia. But she had seen men—doctors mainly—and quite a few of them had been handsome and intelligent, yet not one of them piqued her interest like this scruffy young man who hadn't even spoken a word to her. But something inside herself told her that this guy was special somehow, someone she could trust... yet someone she should also fear.

"Hey." Eric caught Jackie eyeing Hyde and pointed back and forth between the two. "Do you recognise him?"

Jackie turned back to Eric, her eyes widening slightly in alarm. "Him? What? No." She quickly placed her hands on her hips as she tried to think of a way to change the topic of conversation. "I just saw him at your parents' place this morning; that's all. Is he like your brother or something?"

"Hyde?" Eric shrugged. "Well, I guess you could say he's my foster brother. He lives with me."

Jackie dropped her arms to her sides. "Hyde? But at the house your dad called him Steven."

"Yeah, Steven Hyde," Eric said, and then a look of revelation washed over his face. "Wait, does that name mean something to you?"

"Uhm, no, not really..." Jackie paused, trying to keep her external cool. She didn't want to share anything she didn't have to. She didn't like the thought of leaving herself open and vulnerable. But Eric seemed like a nice enough guy, not one to take advantage of her state, and there was really no reason for her to hide this information. What did it mean to her? "It's just that Donna told me it was Hyde who sat with me when I woke up."

"Oh." Eric was gobsmacked for a moment. "Well, do you remember him—at the hospital, I mean. Do you remember seeing him there?"

"No, I was really out of it when I woke up. Couldn't really see anything."

But there was a feeling; his touch, his presence, his voice. Those tactile memories still assailed her, which is why she almost asked him who he was when she first met him at the Formans. She was about to turn around and head out, to make a beeline for the exit like he had earlier that afternoon, when the man in question glanced up and saw her. His mouth parted in a small O.

"Jackie?" Hyde almost sounded surprised, and if Jackie could see his eyes underneath his sunglasses she'd surmise that he was probably sporting a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression.

This morning he had avoided her eye, but she had caught it in that brief moment they brushed hands. He had been giving her that stare, the kind that only men could give—laser-hot and intense and focussed on the most obvious spots. She couldn't blame him really because he was a guy and guy was basically a synonym for pervert. At least he had been discreet about it. It was a courtesy she had not received from Fez or Kelso.

But now the look was different; that of a man trying to gleam insight of himself through her eyes. And though she couldn't clearly see his gaze beneath his aviators she knew that he was studying her—her face, her stance, the way she lightly feathered her fingers over the fine hairs across her temple. He was reading her like a book he had read a hundred times over, knowing every page, every line by heart; and damn it all that she somehow knew this about him.

What was she to him?

What was he to her?

Hyde walked over to where she and Eric stood, his eyes subtly roaming over her body. She shuddered slightly under his scrutiny, much like she had in that brief half-second their hands had touched in the kitchen.

Her emotional reaction to him then had been so sudden, so hot, and so completely unexpected (and without a parallel link to the cold detachment she had been self-conditioning herself with lately) that her mind simply floundered. And now her brain was doing the exact same thing again and they hadn't even touched. She had no idea how to cope with this unexpected burst of fireworks in her heart. For a moment she was like a transmission that had suddenly popped out of gear and into neutral—although the engine was revving like crazy, nothing was happening. Then the clutch re-engaged and the transmission slipped smoothly back into place. She could speak again.

"Hey." She placed a hand on her hip while gesturing palm upwards with the other. "Hyde, right?"

He glanced over at Eric, a somewhat sour expression twisting on his lips, before turning back to her with a curt nod. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know." She shrugged nonchalantly. "Hunting elephants."

At first he openly gaped at her, then his lips curved into an amused smirk. "That's cool." He shrugged. "Most people come in here looking for records and such."

"In a music store? Pft." She tsked in faux disgust, folding her arms beneath her breasts, causing them to jut out and capture his attention. "When will people learn?"

This time she was sure she heard a soft chortle as Hyde's tongue pushed against his front teeth. And now Jackie was smiling too, grinning like a fool for this stranger. God, why did it make her happy to hear him laugh? Was this flirting? Was she flirting with him?

"Hey, so how did you get here?" Eric asked, fortunately derailing her disturbing train of thought. "Red drop you off?"

"No, Fez brought me here. He had to work a shift at the salon, so I thought I'd take a look around town." She held up her copy of _Sophie's Choice_. "Bought a book, saw the store here and thought I'd restock my record collection."

"What, need more ABBA?" Hyde's tone was mocking, but instead of being insulted Jackie decided to ignore it.

"Maybe." She shrugged. "No, I actually have no idea what to buy. I don't really have a preference at this point; however, I pretty much dig anything with a good beat and bass line."

"Really?" Hyde's right eyebrow peaked above his aviators. "Would you like me to direct you to the Aerosmith section or The Clash or maybe some Led Zeppelin?"

Eric snorted. "Jackie listening to The Clash and Zeppelin?" He began to snicker with laughter, and Jackie felt the sudden urge to kick him in the shin. She quickly dismissed this action and smacked him in the arm instead.

"Shut it, Eric."

Eric stood up straight, flabbergasted at Jackie's action, while Hyde openly smirked.

"Yeah, what she said." He then jerked his thumb towards the bins. "Whatever, man. Feel free to look around. There's some headphones over there, if you want to listen to some tracks."

Jackie felt a smile creep onto her lips but halted it, nodding almost shyly. What the hell was wrong with her? But Hyde didn't even see her reaction as he had already turned away, resuming his inventory without speaking another word.

"Hey, whenever you're ready I can take you back to the house," Eric offered, and this time Jackie allowed herself to smile.

"That's cool." Eric looked at her askance, causing her to knit her brow in confusion. "What?"

"It's just—" He looked over at Hyde then back to Jackie before waving his hand dismissively. "Nothing. Never mind."

Even if Jackie had wanted to probe further, she couldn't. Eric was already being called over to the cash register to ring up a customer. So Jackie just went about her business, browsing the records and pretending to be interested when all she wanted to do was watch Hyde.

She stole another glance at him through the corner of her eye, watching how lazily he absorbed himself in his work. Threading her bottom lip with her teeth, she began to frown. So this was the guy who sat with her in the hospital? This was the guy she'd be living with at the Formans'? Her soft brown eyes followed his movements, observing his casual stride, his confident manner. He was a man comfortable in his own skin, not remotely afraid of the world around him. She envied that, envied him.

Then her gaze shifted to the sinewy muscles of his arms as he lifted a crate and began stocking, noting how his biceps and shoulders flexed with the effort. Her eyes travelled over to the mecca of his chest, following the hard planes of his body that shifted and rolled as he moved.

God, why was she fixating on him? There was just something about him; something that drew her eye and made her want to stare at him until he felt her gaze and was forced to turn and meet her eye. She wanted to take those damn sunglasses off him; she wanted to see those eyes of his, to see him naked and vulnerable, exposed. But another, smaller part of her didn't want that—the quiet part that was afraid of him, afraid of what he could make her feel.

As if right on cue, Hyde glanced up and met her gaze with a blank look. Jackie quickly turned away, busying herself with records as she tried to hide her blushing cheeks. Yeah, this wasn't awkward. This wasn't awkward at all.

**.**

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* * *

A/N: So, anyone who read the title (yes, it was inspired by Van Morrison) and was like, 'Hey, hey! Mila Kunis's eyes are mismatched and hazel!', you would be correct. However, I am basing my Jackie off canon, which clearly states on T7S Wiki and in S2E15 (by Jackie herself) that her eyes are brown.

This isn't a passive-aggressive dig at those who prefer to use the terms hazel or mismatched in their stories. I'm just covering my arse in case some of you rain down on me like a hail of crit-facting firestorm. What, I value my arse, okay? ;)


	10. Stranglehold

This chapter is dedicated to Lisa (MistyMountainHop) for her faith in me. It's gonna be a long and winding road, babe. Also, emletish—you are a witch for reading my mind (in the best, most sexified possible way). ;) Title inspired by Ted Nugent—The Nuge, baby!

* * *

Stranglehold

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_19 March 1980  
60 miles north of Madison, Wisconsin  
Oxford Federal Correctional Institution (FCI Oxford)_

**.**

**.**

JACKIE SAT IN the windowless room and pulled idly at the zipper on her jacket. Across from her sat her father, Jack Burkhart—in his dark grey jumpsuit with his carefully managed salt and pepper hair. Both were silent, save the sound of them breathing, and had been holding an awkward sort of staring match for the past five minutes.

Neither knew what to say to the other. Jackie had expected more conversation—not that she wanted any—but Jack appeared just as reluctant. After a while she found herself somewhat claustrophobic in the small visiting cell, as if she was being incarcerated herself.

A few more minutes of silence passed and Jack eventually spoke. He asked her about her health and if her memories were starting to return—desultory conversation. When she bluntly stated she was fine but her memories were still very much gone, Jack seemed both relieved and upset all at once.

The look of guilt that washed over his face was evident the moment she stepped into the room with him. Perhaps he had felt like he had abandoned her as a father. She had no way of telling for certain. No one had filled her in on the finer details of her parents, just that her father was in jail for embezzling money from the city and that her mother was often away on trips to the tropics. Whatever the case, Jackie had a feeling she wasn't being told the entire truth about her family.

A sudden knock at the door startled her, followed by the jingling of keys in the lock. The heavy metal door opened, and Jackie glanced around to see a prison guard standing in the threshold with his thick arms crossed over his barrelled chest.

"Visiting hours are over for the day."

"We haven't even had fifteen minutes," Jack complained, but Jackie didn't mind. She wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible.

"Should've come earlier." The guard shrugged indifferently. "Warden is calling for an early lockdown. Your girl can visit again on Monday."

"Sorry, sweetheart." Jack reached out and took his daughter's hands in his. "See you then?"

Jackie turned back around to study her father's face. He offered her a warm smile before dropping her hands and his gaze, shifting his feet nervously beneath the table. Instead of nodding, Jackie merely lifted a curious eyebrow in response.

Was he really sorry, or did he want to get rid of her as much as she wanted to be rid of him?

**.**

**.**

**.**

HYDE SAT ON his chair in front of the television. His mind was on anything but the current program. The events of last Saturday were replaying in his head again, as they had been all throughout the week.

The meeting with Jackie at the record store had been awkward; not because he had wanted to avoid her (although that was part of it), but because she had been so different—cool and aloof. She still looked and sounded and smelled like Jackie, but everything about her seemed shifted somehow; her eyes, her stance, the way she carried herself. But for all he knew that could have been a fluke. He hadn't spoken to her since then, except in passing. She had spent the majority of her first week holed up in Laurie's old room or being dragged off to doctors' and lawyers' appointments by Mrs Forman or Eric, her newly appointed chauffeur by order of Red.

Hyde didn't know what to think of this new Jackie—the one who kept mostly to herself and took long solitary walks. He liked to be alone as much as the next person, if not more, but it was cold as hell outside. Jackie, though, seemed to find some sort of comfort in the chilly Wisconsin air. And while he had originally intended to have as little to do with her as possible, Hyde ironically found himself drawn to her now that she had distanced herself from him.

This new Jackie who barely spoke unless spoken to seemed to have mastered the art of Zen. She had become an enigma, a riddle he was almost tempted to puzzle out. He couldn't say for certain whether he liked this change or not. It was nice not to hear her prattle on about vapid, useless topics, but at the same time it was an almost discomforting feeling _not_ to hear her talk.

"Were we ever friends?"

The question, and her voice, came out of nowhere, and Hyde almost toppled out of his chair in surprise. He hadn't even heard her coming down the stairs into the basement. He had either been that absorbed in his thoughts or Jackie had become a ninja. He wouldn't be entirely surprised if she was the latter.

"Uh, what?"

Jackie plopped down on the sofa, taking the seat nearest to him. The image of her sitting in her pea coat with her hands stuffed in the spaces between the cushions while he asked her what she was doing there flashed through his mind, but just as quickly he dismissed it with an inward wince.

"I've just been thinking." Her voice was low and casual, not a trace of subtext. "You never came to visit me at the hospital yet you live here and you're friends with everyone else. I was just wondering if _we_ were friends too."

Hyde's jaw locked. He had been waiting for this moment since she first arrived here. In fact he had expected the question to come a lot sooner, but then neither of them had really made themselves available for conversation. And now here they were, having _that_ conversation.

Should he tell her the truth? His gut instinct had always been to be honest with Jackie. After Chicago he might have circumvented a few truths, but if she had just flat-out asked him a yes or no question he would have answered her honestly. After Sam came along, though, Jackie hadn't cared to ask questions. In fact, she just stopped caring altogether, which made him pretending that she was no longer a significant part of his life that much easier.

But none of that mattered now. This wasn't the Jackie he had broken the heart of or had his heart broken by; this was a traumatised young woman. Although she might not have shown that vulnerable side of her yet, Hyde knew it was there underneath the healing bruises and mending bones. And he knew that bringing up anything traumatic could hinder Jackie's recovery, so he opted for half-truths.

"Uh, no." He cleared his throat. "We met through Kelso. You and Donna became friends, and I was friends with Kelso and Donna, so..."

"So we just knew each other through friends, then?"

"Yeah." Hyde had never been so thankful for his sunglasses, but the shades couldn't mask his tone. He had never been able to lie well to Jackie. Make fun of her, sure. But boldly lie to her face? No, he hated that, which is why he so often chose to go Zen and remain silent instead.

"I see." Jackie's eyes had left Hyde's long ago and she placed her hands on her knees before standing to her feet. "Well, that's too bad."

Hyde blinked in surprise for the second time that morning. "What?"

"Us not being friends." Jackie pointed back and forth between them. "It's too bad." She walked over to the deep freeze and fished out a cherry popsicle before turning around to face Hyde. "I mean it's obvious that I'm all sorts of awesome and super fun to be around."

Hyde's mouth dropped open for a second before he snapped it shut. Was Jackie Burkhart actually making fun of herself? Since when did self-deprecating humour become part of her repertoire? And was she actually suggesting that they become friends?

"Uh, yeah," he managed to grunt out, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're about as fun as a barrel full of monkeys."

"I wouldn't go that far." Her rear bumped against the freezer. "I'm not the slinging-my-own-pooh sort of fun. I've gotta _build_ to that."

Hyde chuckled softly in spite of himself. "If you ever get to be that fun, lemme know. I'll sell tickets."

Jackie laughed, a low, throaty chortle, and stuck the popsicle in her mouth. The room went silent again, save the background noise of _The Price Is Right_ droning on the television. Hyde grimaced. Of course it had to be _that_ show playing right now with Jackie standing only a few feet away from him. It would have been even more fitting if they were both sitting on the sofa and he still had his beard.

Ah, the Zen beard. How he missed it. He looked good with one, or at least he assumed so since it seemed to attract all the women (especially the college chicks) like honey. Or maybe the girls were drawn to the fact that he had the beard when he was taken by a certain five-foot-nothing ex-cheerleader with a bitchy attitude and a pirate smile. Whatever the case, the beard had served him well. The solitary soup-catcher, on the other hand, was cramping his style.

Why hadn't he shaved it off already?

"So, do you hate me or something?"

Hyde's heart momentarily froze in his chest, and he shrugged uncomfortably. "Nah, I don't exactly hate you..." He paused, deciding to offer her one of his shit-eating grins. "But if you were on fire and I had a glass of water, I might consider drinking the water."

Jackie leaned forward and slapped him hard against his chest. "Asshole!" She laughed, and Hyde winced, rubbing tenderly below the collarbone. Man, she could hit hard for a tiny girl.

"I said I _might_," he defended, and then lowered his hand before turning away so he couldn't meet her eyes—they always had a way of putting a stranglehold on him. "And, no, I don't hate you." _I tried, though. I really tried._

"Well, that's promising."

"What, me not hating you or me deciding I might throw a cup of water on you if you ever caught on fire?"

"The you not hating me, dickhead!" Hyde silently mouthed the word. This new Jackie had quite the colourful vocabulary. It was amusing as it was disconcerting. "Maybe we could try being friends?"

"Well, when you phrase it like _that_—" he turned to look up at her and shrugged "—yeah, maybe."

Jackie smiled for a split-second—one of those brighter than the sun sort of smiles—then blanked her expression just as quickly. "But only once you lose that porn 'stach." She pushed herself off the deep freeze and held up a slender index finger. "I will _not_ be friends with a guy who looks like he just stepped out of a porno shoot."

Hyde's eyebrows rose above his aviators. "And how would you know what a porn 'stach is, or a porno?"

"I found a huge collection of nudie magazines that Fez hid in my closet while I was gone and, well, I peeked." She pulled a disgusted face. "I was deeply disturbed, on many levels."

Hyde nodded grimly. Fez's pornographic obsession rivalled Forman's—yet their foreign friend didn't seem to understand pacing oneself, or discretion.

"I don't blame ya. Want me to kick his ass?"

Jackie waved a hand dismissively. "Naw. I appreciate the offer, but I handled it." Hyde's eyebrows rose even higher. "I just put the magazines in a box, set it on his bed, and then lit it on fire in front of him." A devilish grin surfaced on her pouty lips. "He cried like a baby."

"Damn, Jackie! That's so badass." He shifted in his seat to face her. "I'm impressed."

Jackie inclined her head slightly. "Why thank you."

Hyde let the ghost of a smile touch his lips. This was different than their last meeting. She seemed more at ease and he, too, felt more relaxed. There were no awkward pauses in the conversation; everything flowed. If anything, they were having a pleasant conversation, bantering even—something they often did when they had been dating (before the fighting).

He was about to open his mouth when their playful exchange was interrupted by Mrs Forman calling from the top of the stairs, "Jackie, could I speak to you for a minute upstairs?"

"I'll be right up, Mrs Forman!" Jackie shouted, and then curtly waved to Hyde. "See ya later."

He nodded in reply, covertly watching her bound up the stairs with the cherry popsicle in her mouth. Once she was out of sight, Hyde turned his attention back to the television, but the damage was already done. He had just had a normal and even pleasant conversation with his ex-girlfriend. She wanted to be friends—with him—and what was even more disconcerting was that he was seriously considering the offer.

_Damn, _he thought._ I'm doomed._

**.**

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**.**

THE SATURDAY LUNCH rush was booming at The Hub. The gang had managed to snag a booth, with Fez and Kelso joining late.

Kelso had to drop Betsy off at his mother's, as Brooke still didn't trust him with Betsy's food choices or being alone with the toddler for extended periods of time. He was a good father, loving and playful, but he was just forgetful and, well, stupid. Brooke would probably feel safer when Betsy was able to walk and communicate at a higher level than her father, which was likely to happen in the next few years.

"So how was Jackie's meeting with her dad?" Donna took a sip of her drink while Eric stole a French fry off her plate.

"Dunno. She hasn't talked about it." Eric dipped the fry in some ketchup. "She doesn't really talk much anymore."

"I tried to get her to come out dancing last night, but she declined." Fez sighed dramatically. "Apparently a book was more entertaining than watching me shake my money-maker."

Kelso nodded emphatically and pointed at his foreign friend. "You're a good dancer, too. Not as good as me, but close."

"Not as good as you?" Fez snorted derisively and gestured grandly to himself. "I am like poetry in motion. _You_ look like a duck having a seizure!"

Eric laughed. "Yeah, remember the time Jackie got you a spoon to bite on?"

"Hey! I'm a fabulous dancer!" Kelso shrieked, pointing at Eric and Fez accusingly. "You're both just jealous of my gorgeous dancer's legs."

Hyde's shoulders shook with repressed laughter and he took a bite of his burger. It almost felt like old times back in high school. The only person missing was Jackie.

"So, Mr Chauffeur—" Donna elbowed Eric in the ribs "—when are you picking up Jackie from her appointment? I want to go shopping with her this afternoon."

"You want to go shopping with Jackie?" Hyde asked with a mouthful of burger, and Donna shrugged.

"Yeah. She always picks out the most flattering sweaters."

"Oh, yes, the kind that show off your boo—" Donna gave her boyfriend an icy glare and Eric opted to glance down at his watch instead of finishing his previous sentence. "Uh, I have to pick her up in twenty-five minutes."

"What doctor is she meeting with now?" Fez asked, and Eric merely shrugged.

"I think her psychiatrist. Mom said something about taking her to a specialist in Chicago next week or the week after."

"A specialist for what?" Donna asked, and Eric shrugged again.

"Didn't say. Must be for her amnesia."

Everyone nodded quietly and went back to their meal. Jackie was inevitably the hot topic whenever they all got together, especially since she hadn't regained her memories yet. It had been over a month and still no progress. They were beginning to wonder if she'd ever get her memories back.

"You know what?" Donna waved a French fry in the air like a conducting wand. "This might sound bad, but I think this whole tabula rasa state is a good thing for Jackie."

"Tab-u-la-what-ah?"

"_Tabula rasa_. It means blank slate."

"Blank slate?" Kelso scoffed. "Donna, why do you have to use your big school words? Just use normal people words like the rest of us!"

Donna rolled her eyes and bit into her fry. "Blank slate is a 'normal people' word, moron! It means Jackie gets to start over again. She can forget the nightmare her life has been for the past six months—"

"Hey!" Fez cried while Hyde silently sulked.

"—and start fresh," Donna finished, sparing Fez an apologetic look while glaring reproachfully at Hyde. "And now that she's rich again she can do pretty much whatever she wants. She can go to college or travel or whatever."

"Or go to the Caribbean, like Pam!" Kelso added excitedly. "And take me with her!"

"Yeah, I don't think Jackie's gonna be travelling much—least of all with you, Kelso," Hyde said, idly dipping his fries in ketchup while Donna's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"She's afraid of flying," he said, as if this was common knowledge. "And I don't think she'll want to be behind the wheel any time soon."

"I didn't know she was afraid of flying." Donna frowned while Eric shrugged indifferently and stuffed fries into his mouth.

"Neither did I," said Fez. "Did you, Kelso?"

"I know she doesn't like flies."

"Hyde," Donna began slowly, "how did _you_ know this?"

"What?" He shrugged uncomfortably, cursing the belated fact that he had opened his mouth. "She talked a lot when we dated; sometimes I listened."

Eric snorted. "I guess some of it would seep in after a while, like osmosis." Hyde's fist suddenly snapped out, frogging Eric in the arm, and the scrawny man doubled over. "Oww! Hyde, what the hell?"

His best friend only offered him a shrug and tight-lipped grin in response.

"It makes sense that she wouldn't want to drive anywhere on her own," Donna conceded. "But still, she can do pretty much whatever she wants now—no restrictions."

"Are you sure you're not excited about this blank slate Jackie because she doesn't remember you ditching her to become best friends with Sam?" Hyde snarked.

"No!" she protested loudly, but when she caught Fez's unapproving gaze, her shoulders slumped forward in defeat. "Uh, well, maybe a small part. But you should be happy about this too, Hyde. Jackie doesn't remember what a heartless bastard you are."

"No—" he crossed his arms over his chest "—she'll find that out all on her own."

"Really?" Eric lifted an eyebrow in jest. "Cause you're the only one Jackie seems to talk to around the house, and you're not exactly being heartless, Tin Man."

"Right." Donna nodded, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "I heard you've been bantering with Jackie lately."

"Forman—"

"What? I only relay what I see and hear." Eric motioned to his girlfriend. "And Donna strong-arms me into filling her on all the comings and goings around here in her absence."

Hyde rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like it takes much."

"Hyde," Fez's voice cut in with a warning undertone, "are you being mean to Jackie?"

"What? No!" Hyde snapped, feeling everyone's eyes on him. "I'm not being mean to her, man. We just talked. Am I not allowed to banter with Jackie now that she's Miss Amnesia Chick?"

"No one's saying that," Donna said rather uncomfortably. "It's just—well, you're not exactly gentle when it comes to bantering."

"Yeah," Kelso agreed. "It's not so much bantering as it is a one-sided burning match." He gripped the corners of the table and pushed forward. "BURN!"

"Hey!" Hyde defended. "I can be gentle; I can banter!"

Eric snorted and stole a fry off Hyde's plate. "Yeah, and I'm sure Darth Vader was making small talk when he choked Admiral Motti with the Force."

"Shut up!" Hyde frogged Eric in the arm again, making him cry out and release the fry. "I'm not going to hurt her, man."

"You better not, you sonuvabitch!" Fez spat. "Jackie has endured enough abuse from you." Hyde shifted slightly in his seat to face Fez, causing the foreigner to recoil slightly. But he stood his ground (or at least remained somewhat stationary in his seat).

"Look, we don't think you intentionally want to hurt her," Eric said, playing the peacemaker. "But you do have this habit of being cruel to Jackie when you're not with her—and sometimes when you are."

"Yeah, well—" Hyde shrugged lazily "—I had my reasons at the time."

"That's bullshit!" Donna snapped, looking ready to pummel.

"But none of that matters now," Hyde said, staring hard at the blonde. "She's not Jackie anymore, _right_? There is no need for me to burn her."

"Well, that's big of you." She folded her arms beneath her breasts in a pout before quietly muttering, "_Dumbass_."

After that everything seemed to calm down and everyone went back to their meals in relative silence. Fez and Kelso left The Hub first, heading back to Kelso's parents' to retrieve Betsy, while Eric went to pick up Jackie from the doctor's. Donna, meanwhile, left with Hyde in the El Camino.

The drive back to the Formans was icily quiet. Once in the driveway, Hyde turned off the car and the two friends sat in eerie silence.

"So, what's going on between you and Jackie?"

"What?" Hyde's head turned sharply in Donna's direction. "Nothing!" Why did everyone have to assume something was going on between them just because they were living together under the same roof?

Donna just stared at him unblinkingly. "Nothing?"

"Yeah—_nothing_," he repeated, enunciating the syllables.

"Look, Hyde, I know you—" Donna began to gesture animatedly with her hands "—and I know what you're like when you're around Jackie."

_You don't know anything_, Hyde thought to himself. "I said I'm not gonna be mean to her anymore."

He hated having to repeat himself. Everyone was so afraid that he'd hurt Jackie again, but did they all forget that she hurt him, too? Kelso, the ultimatum, Chicago, _Kelso_ again. Plus, he knew this Jackie wasn't the same girl he both loved and hated. She had the same body but she was someone and something altogether different. Not better or worse, just different.

"Well, that's all fine and dandy for now," Donna said, not entirely convinced. "But what are you gonna do when she regains her memories?"

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

Donna rolled her eyes. "So, what are you going to do in the meantime—flirt and banter with her?"

"I'm not flirting!"

"Right, sure you're not." Donna patted his knee in a patronising manner. "And you two are _just_ gonna be friends."

Hyde's brow creased in a deep V. He was seriously pissed off. "Are you saying I _can't_ be friends with Jackie?"

"Do you _want_ to be friends with her?" Hyde shrugged slowly in response, but Donna angrily shook her head and waved a finger at him. "Uh-uh, Hyde. A shrug doesn't cut it as an answer. Do you want to be friends with Jackie?"

"I dunno." He shrugged again as Donna shot metaphorical daggers with her eyes. "She's Jackie, y'know." He said this as if it was answer enough and oddly it was.

Donna sucked in a deep breath and let her arms fall limply to her sides. "Yeah, but she's not _really_ Jackie—not the one we used to know. This isn't the same girl you went out with. She doesn't remember anything. She doesn't remember the nurse or the ultimatum or Chicago or Sam.

"And while I don't want to see you hurt her again—and I _will_ wipe the floor with your face if you take advantage of her in _any_ way—I think this would be a good opportunity for you to start over fresh with Jackie, as friends."

After Donna had finished speaking, the car had gone silent. Hyde's hands were still tightly gripping the steering wheel as he let the blonde's words sink in. Of course she'd think he'd hurt Jackie again. There was no point in disappointing her.

"Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence," he said wryly, "but Jackie and I were never friends."

"Yeah, well maybe you can _try_ to be a friend for her."

Hyde felt his lungs deflate and he pulled the keys out of the ignition. "Whatever."

"Don't _whatever_ me," Donna threatened. "Either try to be Jackie's friend or remove yourself from her life."

Hyde stopped and turned to look at Donna directly. "Are you giving me an ultimatum? Cause we both know how well those go over with me."

"I'm telling you how it's going to be," Donna stated evenly, before pointing an accusing finger at his chest. "You're her friend or you're nothing." She shook her head ruefully. "I know you, Hyde. I know the both of you, and I've seen the looks you've been giving her and I know you're the only person she's shown any interest in since she woke up from the coma. Though I can't see why."

Hyde grimaced. "Again, thanks." Though he too didn't know why Jackie was so interested him, especially since she couldn't remember him. Maybe it was all for the best.

"Just don't be an asshole, Hyde," Donna warned.

"Don't be a bitch, Donna." Hyde opened his door. "I'll deal with Jackie when I know how to deal with her."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means mind you own damn business." He slammed the door shut, only to hear Donna yell from inside the car.

"What are you so afraid of, Hyde?"

He ignored her question and entered the house. He was afraid of everything—of himself, of Jackie, of that damn stranglehold she had on him. He was afraid to be friends with the only person who had ever held his heart, and he was afraid of being hurt—again.

**.**

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* * *

A/N: Had to split the original chapter because it was too long (I'm too wordy; I know) and because the Hyde scenes in this are too important to be shadowed by the turn of events in the second half (which will now be chapter 11). After the next chapter is posted, updates will be bi-monthly until I've completed my novel length fic (it's for another fandom; sorry). :/


	11. Sympathy for the Devil

Sympathy for the Devil

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_22 March 1980  
Kenosha, Wisconsin  
Kenosha Psychiatric Hospital_

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**.**

JACKIE SAT ON the plush brown leather sofa in Dr Ridge's office, twiddling her thumbs in uncomfortable silence. She had only come to the hospital to book an appointment, but the psychiatrist had insisted on speaking with Jackie first—'getting a feel' for her is what she called it.

Dr Ridge wasn't quite what Jackie had expected. She seemed less clinical than Dr Keeton and far more social, yet also distinctly reserved. The doctor herself appeared to be in her early-to-mid forties but had that eternally youthful glow to her with her healthy full cheeks. Jackie was sure the woman could pass for thirty-five or maybe even younger, if it wasn't for the bold streak of silver in her fine raven black hair. But the thick silver-grey line that ran along her right temple up into an elegant French twist suited her pale rose-coloured complexion, as did her attire.

She was dressed professionally yet fashionable in expensive-looking dress pants and a white silk off-the-shoulder peasant blouse. Her face was pale, almost porcelain-like; her eyes a deep blue and intelligent. On her slender, upturned nose rested a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, and she was peering through them at Jackie with keen interest.

"So, Jackie, what's been keeping you busy these days?"

"It's Ruby," Jackie corrected instinctively, regretting the correction the moment it came out of her mouth.

Now Dr Ridge was going to ask her why she wanted to call herself Ruby and how that made her feel and all that bullshit. But the anticipated questions never came. Instead, Dr Ridge just nodded as though this wasn't abnormal or even uncommon.

"Okay, Ruby—what have you been up too since your return to Point Place?"

"Nothing much."

Jackie had spent most of her mornings and nights reading and her afternoons walking around town, making sure not to go near crowded places. She had been flagged down too many times and asked too many questions she couldn't answer. And while the attention was discouraging, leaving her feeling uncomfortable and frustrated, she couldn't just keep herself locked indoors; she had to roam freely.

"Just reading and such."

"What do you like to read?"

"Pretty much anything. I really like short stories and poetry."

"Oh, we could spend a whole session talking about books." Dr Ridge laughed. It was a pleasant sound, almost bell-like. "Do you ever feel restless at home?"

Home? Was it _really_ home? "The Formans have made appointments for me for the next couple of week—with lawyers and doctors and such." She shrugged. "So I guess I'll be busy soon."

"Yes." Dr Ridge opened the manila folder that was resting on her lap. "I see here in your medical files that your father's side of the family has a history of heart disease." She closed the folder and her voice softened. "Are you worried at all?"

Another shrug. "No, I don't really think about it."

"Is there anything particular on your mind, then—anything you do worry about?"

"I have a roof over my head and financial security for the rest of my life. What do I have to worry about?" Jackie lied. "Theoretically, I can do almost whatever I want."

The Formans had put a bunch of money in her account, and she had secretly stashed a sizeable amount in her sock drawer. Just in case, she had told herself. In case of what, she did not know—or at least she didn't want to admit to knowing.

"And what is it that you want to do?"

"I don't know yet."

"That's understandable. Most people young people don't know what they want to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting forty-year-olds I know still don't." Dr Ridge smiled encouragingly. "You have lots of time, Ruby."

"Time, yeah..." Jackie's voice trailed off. It helped to know one's past when deciding what one wanted to do with one's future, did it not?

"Do you feel like you don't have a lot of time?"

"No, I just don't feel like I'm in control of it." Jackie shrugged uncomfortably. "But I guess no one really is." She let out a protracted sigh and stood up. She suddenly felt like moving again. "Look, uhm, I thought our session didn't start until next week."

Dr Ridge nodded apologetic and rose with Jackie. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself. I just had to ask you a few questions." She set Jackie's folder on her desk. "I must admit that I'm excited to work with you, Ruby."

"Excited?"

"Yes. I've never worked with an amnesia patient before."

_Great._ Jackie folded her arms beneath her breasts and tried hard not to openly roll her eyes. She was just some sort of psycho-neurobiology project. Jackie had a feeling she was going to dislike these sessions even more than the ones she had with Dr Keeton.

Psychiatrists were just useless, in her opinion. But then Jackie really did need a refill on her Percocet prescription and maybe a stronger dose of sleeping pills. She hadn't been sleeping well—or at all, really—since she came to Point Place. Initially she blamed the fact that she was sleeping in a new place and it disoriented her, but then all places were new thanks to her amnesia.

"Listen, Dr Ridge—"

"Please, call me Siobhán."

"Yeah, I won't be calling you that." Jackie inwardly winced at the snarkiness of her own tone. Perhaps that wasn't entirely fair since she was making the doctor call her Ruby. But then Jackie was paying the psychiatrist to pick apart her brain when she _really_ didn't want that. The good doctor would just have to deal with it. "I just don't feel like talking right now."

"I understand, and I apologise if I came off as overly excited." Dr Ridge's tone and facial expression seemed genuine, causing Jackie to relax and reconsider her earlier assessment. "It's not that I see you as a puzzle or an experiment. You see, I'm also a neurologist. My speciality is anxiety disorders, specifically post-traumatic stress."

"Post-traumatic stress?"

"It is an anxiety disorder triggered by witnessing or experiencing a traumatic event. Instead of immediately coping with the event, sometimes the individual doesn't adjust and symptoms worsen, disrupting their daily life." Dr Ridge leaned against her desk. "It's quite a common condition amongst war veterans. It was initially termed 'shell-shock' during the First World War. Only very recently was it recognised as a legitimate disorder."

"I see," Jackie said after a moment's pause, completely uninterested. "Thanks for the lesson."

Dr Ridge laughed at Jackie's curtness. "Sorry, sometimes I get carried away with explanations and forget how boring I can be." Her eyes crinkled as she smiled; it was almost pleasant. "Essentially, I study how trauma affects an individual's memory. But, please, don't think I only want to treat you to further my studies."

"_Only_?"

"I like to be honest with my patients. How else can I expect them to be honest with me?" Dr Ridge took a step closer. "I just want to be upfront with you, Ruby. But at the same time I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. If you cannot trust me, then I cannot help you."

"Yeah, I get it." Jackie exhaled sharply and rubbed the back of her neck while Dr Ridge practically beamed.

"So, how does next Wednesday sound? 2:30 PM?"

"Good, I guess."

Jackie then shook hands with the smiling doctor and left her office, making sure to book an appointment with the receptionist.

Slipping on her coat, she walked outside and drew in an icy breath of air. She glanced down at the watch Donna had given to her as a present while she was staying at Sacred Heart. Jackie had discovered that she didn't like watches, didn't like being constrained by time. But it was a gift, and the most convenient means to tell time. Eric would be arriving in the next few minutes to take her back to the Formans. She could wait inside where it was warm, but she really didn't want to sit with the families and the single professionals and stare at the tasteless artwork.

Jackie felt a migraine coming on. The walls of her skull felt like they were swelling and contracting. She winced and brought her fingertips to her forehead. Taking her pills out of her pocket, she popped a few in her mouth and swallowed them dry.

She had forgot to ask Dr Ridge for a refill. She'd have to ask on Wednesday. Yet another task for her to schedule in next week, along with other doctors' and lawyers' appointments. When was it going to end? And when was she going to have a say in the matter?

Jackie knew the Formans meant well, but sometimes it was just a little too much. Everyone seemed to expect so much from her—to get her life together, to remember her past. But she didn't have her act together; she didn't have her memories back, and she didn't know if she ever would, or if she even wanted to.

All too often these days she felt like she was suffocating and the walls were closing in on her. Jackie had to smile grimly at the irony. She had so desperately wanted to escape the hospital walls but had only found herself behind yet another set of walls, another prison.

"It'll get better soon," she told herself, as though saying it aloud would make it real, would help her convince herself. "I just need to get my memories back."

But a small part of Jackie questioned whether that would truly help.

**.**

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**.**

HYDE WAS IN the basement watching _Little House on the Prairie_ a little more intently than he should have been when Jackie came down the stairs and flopped down on the sofa next to him.

"Hey," she breathed, her feet going up on the table to rest.

Hyde grunted a similar greeting, shuffling over a bit so that their thighs weren't touching, but trying not to be obvious about it. Jackie, however, didn't seem to notice or care, sinking back into the sofa like it was devouring her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, as though just realising he was there. Flummoxed, Hyde was about to respond with an 'Uh, I live here?' when Jackie waved her hand at him. "Ah, I didn't mean it like that. It's just—shouldn't you be at the store?"

Yes, technically he should have. It was a Saturday afternoon and he had given both Leo and Eric the day off.

"Angie's remodelling the place with some new 80s disco-pop-whatever crap." He crossed his arms over his chest in disgust. "I told her if she wanted to do that then she could watch the store herself for the day."

"Angie?"

"My sister."

"Oh." Jackie's brow furrowed in thought. "Why are you letting your sister do stuff to _your_ store?"

"Eh—" he shrugged "—she has some good ideas, and I wanna give her the benefit of the doubt."

"That's nice of you."

"Yeah, I'm a prince." A prince who'd tear down any disco or soft rock crap he didn't approve of the next day.

Hyde couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy. He was trying with his half-sister, who didn't share the same interest in music and business that he did, but he couldn't bring himself to come half-way with Jackie—a Jackie who no longer had any emotional ties with him, past or present.

"So, how did your shopping trip with Donna go?" he asked, deciding to change the topic of conversation. He didn't see any shopping bags on her, which was surprising. Maybe she already put them upstairs.

"Exhausting," Jackie moaned, sinking back into the sofa to emphasise her fatigue. "She expected me to pick out the perfect outfit for her, but I only have so much to work with, y'know? I'm not a miracle worker." She shrugged. "Besides, old Jackie might've been some sort of fashionista guru, but Ruby here is not."

"Ruby?"

Jackie's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but she quickly blanked her expression and dismissed his question. "Never mind. It's just an expression."

Hyde grunted. An expression from where and in what world? Something wasn't quite right here.

"Ugh, I just rather we would have went somewhere else." Jackie brought both hands up to rub at her temples. "I hate that mall."

_Jackie hates the mall?_ Hyde thought with a frown. _Since when?_ He had assumed all girls loved the mall; well, except maybe Donna, but Donna was like one of the guys. Jackie, regardless of her amnesia, still dressed like Jackie, still took pains with her appearance like Jackie—or at least he assumed so since she looked perfectly coiffed at the moment. But upon closer inspection, her eyes did look tired and a little sunken, and her face was decidedly pale.

"Too many people there know me," she added, and he nodded as clarity finally struck home.

"Yeah, that must be uncomfortable."

He forgot that being back in Point Place would mean a lot of people would still expect Jackie to know who they were. And those who knew about the accident would be naturally curious. He couldn't imagine the kind of hell she went through on a daily basis answering annoying questions—the same annoying questions over and over like, 'Do you remember who I am? How are you doing? Do you think you'll get your memories back?' If it were him, he probably would have drop-kicked them all.

"It's annoying is what it is." Jackie winced, looking even paler than before. "And now I have a migraine." She let out a tired sigh and stood up. "I'm gonna go lie down. Have a good one, Hyde."

He nodded and watched her go, letting the way she said his surname wash over him like a bitter aftertaste. It just didn't seem right coming from her mouth, but he wasn't going to correct her. Donna had been right, in her own annoyingly aggressive way. He had to stop comparing the new Jackie to the old one and start regarding this Jackie as a new person in his life... who just so happened to be wearing Jackie's face.

And while he understood the logic behind Donna's argument—Jackie not being the same girl he fell in love with, Jackie not remembering the pain and the betrayal and that they could start over fresh as friends—another part of him didn't want to be friends with her. Not because of that bullshit excuse about them never being friends but because it was damn near impossible to go from lovers to friends. Donna had no idea what it was like. She had been friends with Forman first; there was a going-back-to. He and Jackie didn't have that.

_You're her friend or you're nothing._

Hyde ground his teeth. Damn women and their ultimatums! He didn't do well with ultimatums or being backed into a corner. Ultimatums implied he had done or was about to do something wrong, and that he wasn't about to reach a reasonable conclusion on his own. Ultimatums meant conform or be abandoned, and he'd rather do the abandoning first. He'd rather be hurt on his own terms.

One of the biggest issues he and Jackie had was control—who had it. They had both loved and wanted to be with each other despite their arguments to the contrary, but Jackie had always wanted more. She wanted everything right then and there, and she had to be in control. He knew it was because she had so very little control in her life growing up, and what she really wanted, deep down, was security.

What hurt Hyde was he thought he had done right by her (as admirably as he could), but he always felt like it was never enough. He was always being told what to do and how to feel and that led to running; that led to avoidance; that led to screaming matches and tears shed that could have been avoided.

But this ultimatum from Donna wasn't about control or insecurities or having the upper hand in a relationship. It was about doing what was best for Jackie, not him and Jackie. For all her persistent noisiness, Donna had a point. Hyde had to make a choice—to actually try to be Jackie's friend, regardless of their past, regardless of the potential pain, or cut off all ties entirely. He knew which one would hurt Jackie less; he knew what should _probably_ do, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

**.**

**.**

**.**

WHEN SLEEP FINALLY came, it was restless and full of dreams.

Jackie's mind was a blackness bordering on eternity, a space with no light and where no sounds echoed. And she was on the edge of that space, reaching out with a hand towards nothing. To touch what, she did not know. Maybe she meant to stop something, to prevent it from coming out, but the effort was futile.

The hand that had met nothing at first finally felt flesh—warm, soft and yielding. Then there was a flash of colour, a sudden blur of movement. A figure came into focus and she saw him as clear as day; the soft curls of his hair were being tussled by the breeze, his blue eyes hidden behind tinted amber glass, the hard line of his cleft jaw set tightly in anticipation and nervous apprehension. He was waiting; she was waiting—for something...

"Alright, look—Steven, _do_ you want to be with me?"

He shrugged non-committally.

"No, no a shrug's not gonna cut it. Steven, I need you to say something." She was so frustrated she wanted to scream, but she knew Steven loved her, knew he wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him. She just had to make the first move, like always. "Alright, look, I'll even go first. Steven, I want to be with you." She motioned for him to continue, "And you..."

"I... Can you hang on a second?" He turned to face Michael and frogged him hard in the chest. "Would you get outta here?"

"Oww! If you want me to leave, all you have to do is say _please_."

"Fine." Steven punched Michael even harder, causing the pretty boy to cry out in pain. "_Please_."

_"_That's better!" Michael said with a pout before walking off, and Steven turned back to Jackie with a sigh.

"Jackie, I _do_ wanna be with you."

Jackie could feel the corners of her mouth curl up into a smile of pure, unadulterated bliss (and victory). With her hands behind her back, she cocked her head to the side and took a happy step forward. "Because you love—"

"Don't push it," he interrupted, but his eyes and mouth had softened into a barely perceptible smile.

Jackie smiled too, saying a quick, "Okay," before going in for the kiss.

His lips met hers with the heady heat of remembrance, and her arms entwined around his neck. His hands went to her shoulders first, as if to see if she was really there, really his. His wide palms slid down her back, pulling her in close as she speared her fingers through his hair. He turned his head and deepened the kiss as she sighed into his mouth, her fingers grasping at the fine hairs on the nape of his neck.

It was like coming home.

But then the memory faded, had gone to black, and she was left alone with her thoughts. _Steven? Who is Steven?_ Though her addled dream-state could only begin to guess at the significance, could only fumble with rationalisations and portents in this abstract world, a voice suddenly called out.

_You're not me._

_You're living a lie._

_You think they care, but they don't._

_You think he won't hurt you, but he will._

_He will._

_And you will be alone._

_Again._

The silence of space filled her mind, and just as suddenly her world began shifting, shifting and colliding into thoughts and patterns she could not describe. It was a signal, ushering her towards something new and terrifying.

The images splintered and broke apart. A memory unlocked spun out and retreated inwards and back unto itself. And Jackie was left wondering how many more were to come and go. For now her world was shifting, spinning like a ball of glass in the void, and that voice not unlike her own was the first fragile crack in the null.

**.**

**.**

**.**

JACKIE STUMBLED HER way out of the bathroom and into the hallway, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes. She was light-headed and sore, as if she had been wrestling with her sheets the entire time she had been sleeping—and the sheets had won. While she didn't feel all that rested, her migraine had thankfully been reduced to a dull ache.

Her stomach gurgled and she groaned, bringing a hand to her rumbling midsection. Maybe some food lining her belly would lift this feeling of discomfort. So after a series of jaw-cracking yawns, Jackie made her way down the stairs into the living room.

Eric was seated on the sofa, watching _Donahue_ on the coloured TV. He glanced up at the sound of the petite girl coming down the stairs and did a double-take when he saw the normally immaculately dressed and coiffed Jackie sporting a pair of blue and white flannel pyjamas. Her face was pale and her eyes were dark and sunken, her raven-coloured hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.

"You look—_good_." Eric stressed the adjective, and Jackie glared at him with tired eyes.

"Thanks."

"How are you feeling?"

Jackie shrugged, taking the seat next to Eric. "Better than yesterday."

"You mean Saturday?"

Jackie blinked nonplussed. "What day is it?"

"Monday."

"Monday? Huh." She was supposed to visit her father again today. Had she really slept that long? She didn't remember waking up in the night or even dreaming; although she was sure she had done both.

"Yeah, Mom wanted to get you to eat, but you were dead to the world." Eric picked up the clicker and turned down the volume. "You okay?"

Jackie brought her hand to her neck and rubbed at the tender muscle with a sigh. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just these migraines, and I haven't been sleeping well since I got here." When he gave her a concerned look, she shrugged it off and dropped her hand. "Insomnia's a bitch."

Eric nodded slowly. "Well, you do look more rested."

She certainly didn't feel it, but then again she did feel better than she had on Saturday. What she needed was to really wake herself up. She brought her shoulders back, making the blades touch, and she stood to her feet. "Well, I'm gonna take a shower."

Just then Mrs Forman came bounding out of the kitchen, a pristine white apron tied around her waist. "Oh good, Jackie, you're up! I was worried I was going to have to force feed you." She tittered jovially, and then a motherly expression crossed her features before she put a hand to Jackie's forehead. "How's your head? Do you have a fever? Are you hungry?"

"Uh, not really hungry, Mrs Forman," Jackie answered, trying to field at least one question, before noting the almost hurtful look in the older woman's eyes. "But I really could eat—it'll probably make my head feel a lot better." Kitty smiled, and Jackie hooked her thumb in the direction of the stairs. "I'm just gonna take a quick shower and come down for lunch."

After a long, hot shower, Jackie decided it would be best to skip drying her hair as Mrs Forman probably had lunch already set on the kitchen table. With her hair still damp, Jackie quickly dressed herself in a pair of dark jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt she had found in her luggage and jogged down the stairs to find Eric, Mrs Forman, and a stranger sitting in the living room.

"Jackie," Mrs Forman said in a voice laced with caution and concern, and Jackie paused on the landing. She noted the tall, bronzed and beautiful woman sitting next to Kitty, and frowned. She wanted to ask Mrs Forman what was wrong.

"Hello, Jackie," said the tanned woman, who turned towards the petite brunette with a big smile.

Something about the beautiful woman was off-setting and read insincere to Jackie. She was too tan, too pretty, too perfect—like an older woman who took great pains to look and act a lot younger than she was.

"Hi," Jackie said cautiously, taking the final step off the landing. She glanced over at Eric, who was seated on the red chair. His expression was mirroring his mother's, that 'uncomfortable with the situation' look.

"Don't you recognise me?"

Jackie's brow knit together in annoyance. Was this woman an idiot or something? "Uh, no?" Surely Eric and Mrs Forman had told this tall bronze Amazon woman about her amnesia. If she knew, she didn't let on to care or take offence to Jackie's tone, for she just ploughed onwards.

"I'm your mother!" She stood up with her arms wide open, like this was a surprise birthday party and Jackie was the flummoxed birthday girl. "Pam Burkhart!"

"I see," Jackie said disinterestedly, circling the woman (who still had her arms open) with wary eyes. How the hell was this tall woman her mother? Granted, the woman was gorgeous, but Jackie couldn't see herself in her at all.

"You see?" Pam repeated with a giggle, and then wiggled her hips, opening her arms even wider. "Oh, get over here and give your mother a hug."

Jackie eyed her mother like she had just suggested a disgusting notion, like pig wrestling, and stood where she was. She wasn't going to hug this woman, not as Ruby. Ruby didn't hug. Ruby didn't trust this bronze statuesque woman standing in front of her with her too-big-for-her-mouth smile like she was going to devour her.

"Would you like something to drink, Pam?" Mrs Forman suggested, noticing Jackie's obvious discomfort.

Pam finally dropped her hands (certainly not in disappointment) and turned towards Kitty with a bright smile. "Can you make a _piña_ colada?"

"I can pour you some rum," Kitty said with a laugh, walking over to the bar. "Might pour myself some too." Another nervous, tittery laugh.

"Why are you here?" Jackie asked her mother, folding her arms beneath her breasts. "Why here, why now?"

"What kind of question is that? I'm your mother. Isn't a mother allowed to see her child?" Pam put a hand to her heart, as though wounded. "Besides, my baby needs me."

"She needed you a month ago," Kitty muttered under her breath, taking a big gulp of the rum meant for Pam with a hiss. She wasn't much for rum, but it was convenient and strong.

"What was that, Kitty?"

"Oh, nothing," Kitty replied, taking another sip and muttering dark words into her drink, before letting lose another forced peel of laughter.

Pam ignored Mrs Forman easily and turned back to Jackie. "I wanted to see how you were doing, Jackie."

"I'm fine," Jackie said through gritted teeth. She had no idea why she felt so angry in this moment. "If you were that concerned, you could have called instead—say, a month ago."

Pam shook her head, as though she were dealing with an unruly child. She brought a hand to Jackie's head, running her fingers through her daughter's damp curls with a slight frown of annoyance. "I'm sorry. I would have come sooner but I had a pressing engagement."

"Like what?" Eric asked. "A conga line?"

He had been silent up to that point, almost unnoticeable in the room, and Jackie had to struggle not to laugh outright.

"So, how long will you be staying in town, Pam?" Mrs Forman asked, trying to ease the tension as well as fish for information. "And _where_ will you be staying?"

"I'm here for as long as my baby needs me," Pam cooed, ignoring Kitty's angry stare and Eric's previous slight on her character. "I figured I'd get a house for me and Jackie to stay in."

"Really now?" Mrs Forman was already pouring herself another drink, Pam's _piña_ colada entirely forgotten. "With what money, Pam?"

Pam clucked her tongue disapprovingly and ignored Kitty, turned back to Jackie like she was a new Barbie doll to play with. "My daughter shouldn't have to live here. She has enough money to buy a place of her own." She wiped invisible lint off Jackie's shoulder and smiled. "Of course, I'd help with the arrangements and get her settled."

"Don't talk as if I'm not in the room," Jackie said icily, taking a step back. How was it that this woman could look her in the eye, make full contact, and still treat Jackie like she wasn't even there, wasn't even real?

"Oh, I'm sorry, Jackie. Apparently this little accident of yours has made you quite sensitive." Pam shook her head with a burdened sigh of the understanding. "And has also resulted in quite the lapse of fashion judgement." She frowned, motioning to the black band tee. "Honestly, Jackie—you're wearing a t-shirt?"

"So, you want me to buy you a house—is that it?" Jackie ignored the desultory conversation and got right to the heart of the matter. Her mother wanted something from her.

"No, _us_ a house," Pam clarified. "I'm just going to help you settle in. We can do each other's hair and pick out a new wardrobe for you. It'll give us some mother-daughter bonding time." The tall woman curved her well-manicured fingers along Jackie's jaw. "You might not remember this, but we were very close."

Mrs Forman openly snorted into her drink at this, while Eric palmed his face. Pam didn't seem to notice either, but Jackie had. _Might not remember? Right._

"Kitty, could you have your strapping young son take my bags upstairs?" Pam ordered, as though this were the most natural thing for her to do in someone else's home. "Jackie, could you be a dear and help him while I have a chat with Mrs Forman?"

Jackie spared a glance in Mrs Forman's direction. The motherly woman sighed and set down her drink, nodding silently. "Eric, take Mrs Burkhart's bags into Jackie's room for now. Jackie—" her soft eyes were full of pity "—you go with him for a bit, hun. I'll call you as soon as your mother and I are done talking." She then stepped out from behind the bar and made a beeline for the kitchen with Pam gracefully following.

Neither Jackie nor Eric bothered to make a move for Pam's suitcases. Instead, both eyed each other and tip-toed towards the kitchen door the moment it stopped swinging. Eric stood on the left side of the door while Jackie bent over on the right. Their mother's voices were hushed but clear enough to make out.

"So when did you find out about the trust fund?"

"Jack told me last week... I hear you and Red are the executors."

"We have Jackie meeting with lawyers and bankers this week to decide what she wants to do with the money."

"That's good. So the money has already been transferred to her?"

"Some of it, yes." There was a distinct pause followed by an accusation, "What are you doing here, Pam?"

"I don't think I like your tone, Kitty. I'm here for my daughter, of course."

"You should have been here over a month ago when your daughter was in the hospital!"

"Kitty, I appreciate you and Red helping out with my Jackie. But now that I am back, I plan on taking care of her myself."

"You mean you plan on taking her money? You have never been there for that girl when she needed you! Instead you go off gallivanting who knows where and only come back when your daughter has something _you_ want."

"Kitty, she is _my_ daughter, not yours! And none of this is no longer any of your business or your concern."

Jackie pulled back, not wanting to hear another word. She felt sick to her stomach. _This_ was her mother? Some greedy, self-centred, money-hungry witch? She turned around and deliberately walked to the other side of the room.

"Jackie?" Eric whispered, taking a step away, but Jackie was already putting on her boots.

She grabbed her navy pea jacket from the coat rack and opened the front door wide. "I'm going to go for a walk."

And with a soft click of the door shutting behind her, she was gone.

**.**

JACKIE DIDN'T WANT to go back inside. She didn't want to have a talk with her 'mother'. There was no place for Jackie in Pam's fantasy world. There was no place for Jackie, except in this driveway and on this porch with the cold, wet snow underneath her backside.

She stood up and began pacing down the driveway with her hands in her pockets, watching her boots mark prints in the browning snow. Her mother had claimed they were close, but Jackie wasn't inclined to believe that. What mother would stay out of the country when her daughter was in a coma, but hops on the next flight back to the States when she discovered that daughter was now in possession of a sizeable trust fund? A mother greedy for money, that's who.

As alone as Jackie had felt before, now she felt like an expendable asset. Everyone seemed to want something from her—her memories, her money, some kind of connection that wasn't there—but she had nothing left to give and no ties to keep her there.

Making her way over to the basement entrance, Jackie sat on the top step. She was hoping to hide herself for a bit or maybe be met with a miraculous solution to her problems. Instead she sat until her backside went numb, hitting her thighs with her fists to pass the time.

Her face felt like it had shattered in pieces and she could not keep it straight. The feeling was indescribable; something she could not identify or relate. 'I want—I want—I want' was all that she could think about. But just what this real want was she did not know, except that she _wanted_ to escape.

After a few minutes the door to the basement opened. Jackie glanced down quickly, her hands on the steps and ready to push herself off and run, when she saw that it was only Eric. He stood still on the bottom of the landing for a moment. His eyes widened in surprise but his expression of shock quickly melted away and was replaced with a good-natured smile.

"Hey, we were getting worried about you." He bounded up the stairs and took the seat next to her when she didn't make a move to get up. "Thought I might have to organise a search party."

Jackie smiled thinly, folding her hands together and placing them on her lap. Quite honestly, she didn't believe anyone was all that worried, least of all her mother, and she really didn't care. But at least Eric was acting as though he cared.

"Jackie, you okay?"

She thought about the question for a moment. Was she? Nothing had been right since she first woke up, and coming back so soon to Point Place only seemed to exacerbate her feelings of unease.

She knew what she wanted to do, but she was somewhat afraid to do it. Her biggest obstacle, however, was how she was going to execute her plan. What she needed was a willing participant, someone who had no real opinion on her comings and goings; someone who would help her without question.

She glanced over at Eric. "I need you to do me a favour."

**.**

**.**

**.**

THEY HAD BEEN driving for five minutes before Jackie finally spoke, "I'm surprised you were able to sneak into my room, pack my stuff, and leave without anyone noticing."

"Well, I am a ninja," Eric replied all too seriously, and Jackie snorted.

"Sure you are."

In truth his mother had gone back into the kitchen to bake away her anger and worry. Only Pam had been in the living room to see him go, seated on the red chair as if it were her throne.

"When Pam asked me where I was going I just said I was gonna keep you company."

"And what did she say?"

"Hurry back."

"Yeah, hurry back with her meal ticket," Jackie retorted dryly, yet there was no detectable bitterness in her tone. Still, Eric felt bad for her.

"Look, Jackie, I'm really sorry about your mom."

She waved him off. "Eh, it's okay. I don't remember anything about her anyway and I'm glad I don't. Besides, it's not like I have to deal with her anymore, right?"

Eric nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on the road. He stole glances at the petite brunette out of the corner of his eye. He had to admit that Jackie had quite the poker face. He couldn't tell if she was really upset or not. And while Jackie might not have had a connection with her mother anymore, Eric was sure the feelings of hurt and betrayal were there somewhere, hidden deep down underneath the surface, along with her locked memories.

He pulled the Vista Cruiser into the bus station, and the conversation lulled. Finding a spot to park, Eric kept the motor running for a bit—not just to keep the heater on but to give Jackie a chance to change her mind, in case she wanted to. He wasn't going to stop her (she had asked him for a favour), but he wasn't going to go out of his way to encourage her either.

"Eric, thank you for doing this," she said quietly. "And I really appreciate you not asking me _why_ I wanted to leave the way I did."

He shrugged, turning off the ignition. "Hey, sometimes you have to burn a few bridges to keep the crazies from following you, am I right?"

Jackie chortled lowly, and Eric smiled tightly. A part of him wanted to ask her why, but a bigger part of him didn't want to betray the trust she had so willingly bestowed upon him. So he did what he normally didn't do; he kept his trap shut.

"Was that a rhetorical question?" Jackie raised an eyebrow. "Or was the old 'devil' me known to literally burn down bridges?"

He grinned. "Naw, your hellfire was figurative for the most part. But you did know your way around a back-handed compliment."

"Hmm, that's good to know," Jackie said without much mirth, and Eric instantly regretted the quip. Sometimes he forgot this wasn't the same Jackie he once knew, even though she seemed to take his jokes a lot better than the old one did.

Eric stepped out of the car and walked over to the passenger's side, opening the door with a flourish. "And you should also know that sarcasm is but _one_ of the services I provide, _m'lady_." He offered her his hand and a warm, apologetic smile. "The other, obviously, is being the best damn personal chauffeur in all of Point Place."

Jackie laughed and took his hand before stepping out of the Vista Cruiser. "And I appreciate _both_ services, really."

Eric nodded, glad he had recovered well enough. He grabbed the black duffel bag from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before motioning to Jackie. "You got enough money?"

She nodded and patted the rolled up bills in her pocket—the ones he had fetched from her sock drawer. The two then made their way to the ticket booth and Jackie paid the fee before taking the duffel bag from Eric. She looped the strap over her shoulder as he accompanied her to the platform where they both waited. The bus was scheduled to arrive in the next five minutes, and Eric refused to leave her side until he saw her safely onto the bus.

"So, why me?" he asked after a moment of silence. There were only a few other people waiting around nearby. "Why did you ask me to take you here?"

"Convenience mainly." Jackie shrugged. "You were the only one who came to look for me. And it's not like I could have asked your mother. She would have probably tried to talk me out of it. She's very convincing."

Eric nodded emphatically. "It's the baked goods and the honed art of motherly guilt-tripping."

"Yeah, well, whatever it is it works really well." Jackie sighed. "But, really, it's not like I had a lot of volunteers, and even if others were around I wouldn't have asked them."

Eric's brow rose in surprise. Did she trust him more than the others, more than Donna? More than Hyde—the only one of the gang she had bothered forming a tenuous bond with?

"Donna and Fez would have tried to stop me. Kelso, I don't particularly feel safe with behind the wheel of a car. He'd either drive me into another tree or try to feel me up, or both. And Hyde—" Jackie shrugged indifferently "—well, I'm still not sure if he likes me all that much, so I don't see him doing me favours any time soon."

Eric thrust his hands into his pockets. "Hyde's—well, Hyde's complicated."

"I'll bet," Jackie agreed humorously, and then lightly elbowed Eric in the ribs. "As for you, you seem like the pushover type."

"You would not be incorrect."

"But the one thing _I_ don't get is why you're not trying to stop me." At Eric's odd look, Jackie immediately began waving her hands in front of her face. "Don't get me wrong. This isn't a cry for help or anything like that. I'm not saying this to get you to stop me. I just—" she let out a long, protracted sigh "—you also seem like the type who's easily cowed by his girlfriend. Isn't Donna gonna give you the third degree when you come back without me?"

"Oh, Donna's going to give me third degree _burns_, and my mother might disown me, and Fez will probably cry and throw candy at me. But..." He paused, taking in a deep breath. "I kinda understand what you're going through. Not the amnesia part—I have my memory intact, _unfortunately_. But I understand the desire to go off on your own and discover yourself."

"Yeah." Jackie's shoulders instantly relaxed. "You went to Africa, didn't you? Your mother told me on one of her visits." She glanced up at him with a look in her eyes he had never seen from her before. Was it respect? "That takes a lot of courage."

Eric suddenly felt very self-conscious and brought a hand to the back of his neck. This new honest, 'nice' Jackie was going to take some getting used to. "Well, so is what you're doing right now."

"I don't know about that." She was looking down at her boots.

"No, seriously, Jackie." Eric took in a deep breath and sighed. "Look, you and I were never really friends, so I'm not saying any of this to get on your good side; but if I were in your shoes, I'd be terrified. But you, you're actually doing something about it; you're living your life. Going off on your own—that takes guts."

The two shared a moment of silence; only the quiet murmur of pedestrians walking by and the noise of engines as buses lazily pulled onto the numbered platforms.

Eric wondered if he had overstepped his bounds with Jackie or had said something too dramatic or too stupid. He did have a habit of putting his foot in his mouth. But Jackie didn't roll her eyes or tell him to shut up. Instead, an appreciative smile surfaced on her lips, and she nodded at him.

"Thanks, Eric."

"You're welcome, Jackie."

And that was all that really needed to be said.

After another minute Jackie's bus finally pulled into the terminal, and she handed the driver her ticket and luggage. She straightened her coat and smoothed down her dark hair before turning back to Eric, giving him a confident smile and a wave of goodbye.

"Jackie, hey!" Eric jogged up to the platform, and she turned around to face him. "Call us when you get to wherever you're going, okay?"

"Will do." Jackie then gave him a mock salute before stepping onto the bus. "See ya later, _Kid_."

Eric grinned and winked. "See you soon, _Devil_."

And with that, Jackie Burkhart turned her back on Point Place. She was about to start her own adventure, write a chapter in the new book that was her life. Eric couldn't be any more envious, or proud.

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

A/N: Now you see why I had to split the previous chapter. Drama! And you honestly thought I wouldn't bring back some angst to break up the potential Jackie x Hyde bonding? Tsk, tsk. Hyde's still got a lot of growing to do before he can even think about getting close to Jackie again, and Jackie's got to discover herself on her own. We're in for a long ride, people. ;)

Siobhán (shh-vaun or shi-vaun) is a feminine Irish name, and I absolutely adore it so it's safe to assume that you'll see Dr Siobhán Ridge again (why else would I waste such a wonderful name?).

PS. Title inspired by The Rolling Stones.


	12. Go Your Own Way

Go Your Own Way

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**.**

**.**

_24 March 1980  
Point Place, Wisconsin  
The Formans' Basement_

**.**

**.**

"WHAT THE HELL were you thinking?"

"Obviously I _wasn't_ thinking!"

Eric had left the bus station on a high, delivering self-congratulatory pats on the back for doing right by Jackie—or at least he had thought. Arriving at the house to find a confused and slightly drunken ex-neighbour, a worried mother, and an angrier than normal father, Eric realised he had grossly miscalculated his triumphant return. When Hyde came home for lunch with Fez, Eric was almost certain his young life was over, especially when his best friend proceeded to drag him down into the basement to have a little 'talk'.

"Forman, of all the stupidest things you've done, _this_ is the most moronic." His thick fingers speared through his 'fro, clutching at curls so tightly that in one jerking motion he'd be tearing them out by the roots. "Jackie's travelling alone cross-country on a freakin' bus! A bus! She might as well be hitch-hiking. Do you have any idea what could happen to her, man? Fuck!"

"I know! I know!" Eric slammed the heel of his palm into his forehead and swore softly. "I'm so stupid!"

"That is an understatement, my friend," Fez chimed in. Although he wore the same grave expression as Hyde, the foreigner didn't look nearly one-tenth as pissed off. Numbed was perhaps the best word to describe Fez's countenance.

"I thought I was helping her, man. You didn't see her." Eric pointed at Hyde and then Fez in defence. "Pam was being, well, Pam, and Jackie was quiet, like eerily villainous, plotting world domination sorta quiet. She needed someone, and neither of you were here!"

"Don't blame your stupidity on us!" Hyde's hands were balled up in fists kept tightly at his side, contained but coiled for action.

"She was going to leave anyway, so I—" Eric threw up his hands in frustration. "Look, I know this doesn't mean much, but I think I convinced her to call us when she gets to wherever she's going."

"Oh, well, _that's_ helpful!" Hyde spat, digging his fingernails into his palms. "_If_ she makes it to wherever she's going!"

There was no telling where Jackie was going and who she'd meet along the way or what sort of danger she be placed in. There was a very real possibility that Jackie could be in danger, all because Eric had foolishly opted to play the chivalrous knight. His thin chest immediately deflated at the dark images that flashed through his head.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought—I was just trying to help her."

"No!" Hyde rounded on his best friend. "You enabled her, man. That's not helping; that's sending her off to the wolves!"

"She was already surrounded by wolves!" Eric snapped, and Hyde visibly flinched. Eric wasn't lying, but that didn't give him the right to project his own guilt onto others. "Look, man—" he swallowed hard "—I'm sorry."

"Don't." Hyde held up his hand and clenched it into a fist before heading up the stairs. "It isn't me you should be apologising to."

"Hyde! Wait!"

Eric could only watch as his best friend bounded up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. There was no way anyone was going to stop him now. Hyde was a rolling stone and one hell of a stubborn mule when he was angry. Eric was likely to get a black eye if he tried to get in his way. So, for the time being, he'd give Hyde a few minutes to settle down and walk it off, or wait for Red to right Hyde's ass.

Letting out a sigh, Eric turned around and plopped himself down on the sofa. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Cradling his head in his hands, he momentarily forgot that Fez was still in the basement with him.

"I can't believe she didn't ask me to take her," Fez said, crestfallen. "I am her boyfriend."

"You mean her _ex_-boyfriend," Eric corrected, lifting his head. "You broke up with her, remember?"

"Well, good on you, Eric!" Fez snapped, angrily slapping a hand down on his hip before sizing up his skinny friend with narrowed eyes. "Those smarty pants look real fancy on you now, don't they?"

Eric sighed. "Fez, I wasn't trying to be flippant."

The foreigner held up his hand in a halting gesture. "I don't want to hear about your gymnastic moves in the bedroom, Eric. Donna flipping you around like a rag doll is delicious fun to watch, but I have no desire to talk about my needs right now. I am wounded. Wounded!" He patted his chest for emphasis and then snapped his fingers before pivoting on his heel. "Good day to you, sir!"

"But, Fez—"

"I said 'good day'!"

Eric dropped his head back in his hands as the basement door slammed shut with Fez's dramatic exit. This was turning out to be one hell of a day.

**.**

**.**

**.**

HYDE WAS LIVID.

He was mad at Eric, he was mad at Jackie, but most of all he was mad at himself. Rounding the top of the stairs, he slammed the basement door shut with such force that the hinges actually shook.

"What the hell is going on?" Red barked, but Hyde just brushed past the fatherly figure, mumbling a tight-lipped apology before making his way through the kitchen to the veranda door.

His escape route was effectively blocked by a shocked-looking Mrs Forman. Pam Burkhart sat at the small breakfast table with a glass of wine in hand, watching the scene unfold with wide, glazed-over eyes.

"Steven, honey?" Kitty's face was etched with concern as she tentatively reached out to touch her foster son's face.

Hyde stepped back out of her reach. He didn't want to have a talk or share his feelings. Right now all he wanted to do was find Jackie, get drunk, and hurt someone, and not necessarily in that order.

He made to move past Kitty when Red's large hand came down on his shoulder, stopping Hyde mid-stride. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I've gotta find her."

"No, you're not." Red easily manoeuvred Hyde to the seat next to Pam and not so nicely encouraged him to sit. "You're gonna stay right here and wait for her phone call like a grown-up."

"What if she doesn't call?" Red didn't answer and a tic began to work in Hyde's jaw. "I thought so."

Tension filled the room as the Formans waited for Hyde to react, but it was Pam who breached the silence first.

"Oh, Jackie'll be back," she said confidentially as she drunkenly trilled into her drink. "My Jackie's always been little drama queen. She used to take off all the time when she was little."

"And how would you know?"

Pam turned to face Hyde, her brow slightly furrowing as she truly noticed him for the first time. "Pardon me?"

"Did I stutter?" There was a low, dangerous timbre to his voice. He leaned forward, invading her personal space. "I asked you a question, Pam. _How_ would you know what Jackie did when she was a kid? You were never around. You couldn't even bother to visit her in the hospital when she was fighting for her life."

Pam jerked back with a wince, slightly alarmed by the young man whose malicious eyes were hid behind amber-tinted aviators. Swallowing hard, she worked herself up to the point of anger before slamming her glass down on the table, red wine slushing over the rim and splattering onto her hand.

"How dare you!" she huffed. "You have no idea what my relationship with my daughter is like."

"Is?" He laughed bitterly. "What your relationship with Jackie is a fucking joke. It's non-existent. You're not her mother. You're just some woman who gave birth to her."

Hyde was standing up at this point, bracing his hands against the table so he could lean right into Pam's too tanned, too heavily made-up face.

"You're nothing but a user, Pam. You use Jackie for what you need, abandon her, and move on to your next mark, spreading your legs for any young boy or rich man that'll have you."

"Now see here, I-I—"

"You have no fucking right to be here!" He slammed his fist into the table, making her jump back in her seat. "You have no right to sit here and play umbrage, pretending to be a concerned mother, when all you care about is your daughter's money!"

The room went shockingly quiet as Pam opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. "H-how rude!"

"Rude? _Rude?_" He scoffed. "Who cares about manners, lady?" Hyde pushed off the table and glared down at Pam in disgust. "_You're_ the reason Jackie left in the first place—all because you were just itching to get your gold-digging paws on your daughter's trust fund."

"H-how dare you accuse me of such—of such—"

"Truths?"

Hyde was staring Pam down like he was just looking for an excuse to hit her. Tension hung thick in the air, until Kitty threw herself on the grenade and placed herself in between the two. She lifted her hands in a yielding manner, pushing the two apart as she laughed nervously.

"Ha-ha-ha. Okay, now, everyone's upset here. Let's all just cool off."

Hyde was about to open his mouth and issue a scathing retort against Pam when Red's strong hand clamped down on his shoulder again.

"Steven, go out to the garage. I'd like you to work on the Toyota." He let go and slid open the veranda door that Hyde had earlier tried to duck out of and gestured with a shooing motion. "Something's rattling around in the carburettor. I need you to check it out."

Hyde stared down Pam for another second before turning towards the door and exiting the house in a huff. Sliding the glass door shut, Red slowly spun around to face Pam and exhaled sharply.

"Pam, you had better leave."

The tall woman blinked nonplussed but stood regardless. "But what about Jackie?"

"Leave us with a number where we can reach you," Red said, kindly escorting Jackie's mother into the living room. "When she calls, we'll call you."

Pam nodded absently and walked over to the sofa. Opening her purse, she began to rummage through it until she found a small card and a pen. After scribbling down a number, she handed it to Red, who took it with pursed lips.

"Could I use your phone to call a cab?"

"Of course," Kitty answered with feigned politeness, directing the taller woman to the phone in the kitchen. Once the swinging door shut, Kitty walked over to Red and sighed. "I have no idea how you can be civil to that woman."

"I can't exactly threaten to shove my foot up her ass, can I?"

"I'd turn a blind eye," Kitty retorted, before sounding off in tittering laughter.

Red shook his head, but couldn't hide the small grin on his lips as he slipped the card into his breast pocket. After a few seconds of silence, save Pam dialling a cab, the atmosphere thickened once more, reverting back to its sombre mood. Kitty nervously played with the hem of her apron, soundlessly working her mouth as she prepared herself to speak.

"Now, Red," she began in a soothing tone, like she was trying to talk him down from a ledge or from going to town on someone's ass with his foot. "I know you're mad at Eric for what he did, but—well, he doesn't know the whole story about Jackie, now does he?" When Red failed to answer, Kitty forged on. "We both know Jackie would have left anyway. Her doctor said it'd be natural for her to wander, remember?"

"Yeah."

"Just... don't be too harsh on him."

"Yeah." Red let out a laboured sigh and brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose, staving off a headache that was beginning to form behind his eyes.

He had got called home by Kitty shortly after Eric returned without Jackie. He had initially been furious with his son because of the potential risks to Jackie's health, but no one but himself, Kitty, and Jackie's doctors knew about the girl's potential heart condition—or that she was supposed to see a specialist next week in Chicago. Now that plan was nixed, all thanks to the well-meaning of his dumbass son.

"Where's Hyde?" The dumbass himself had charged into the living room after only finding Pam in the kitchen.

"He's working on Toyota."

"Oh. I should probably go talk to him," Eric said, sounding far from confident. But before he could turn around Pam was already back in the living room with a bright smile plastered on her face, causing the Formans to collectively bristle with unease.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, but Red ignored her and pushed past the tall brunette.

"Eric, get in the kitchen."

"Am I in trouble?" He eyed his father warily. "Are you going to take off your belt? You're going to take off your belt, aren't you?" Red just grunted and grabbed his panicked son by the elbow, half-dragging him into the kitchen while Eric swivelled his head around to direct pleading and pathetic looks at his mother. "Mommy, help!"

But Kitty just pursed her lips in a tight smile before shooing her son away. "Eric, honey, just go speak with your father."

Giving his mother a look like he was heading off to war, Eric complied and followed his father into the kitchen. Once the door swung shut behind them, he felt as though his fate (or doom) had been sealed. He didn't much like being yelled at by Hyde, but Hyde was a cuddly kitten compared to Red's vicious sabre-toothed tiger.

"Look, Dad—" his hands were already up in mock surrender "—I know I screwed up. I'm sorry. I should have never taken Jackie to the bus station when she asked me to."

He chanced to look up and met his father's gaze, expecting a resounding threat to be issued about his foot up Eric's ass, but it never came. Instead, Red let out a bone-tired sigh and leaned back against the kitchen counter, bracing the back of his palms on either side of his hips.

"Eric, I'm not here to point fingers or place blame. Were you a dumbass to let her go alone? Yeah. But we all know Jackie wasn't happy. Her mother—hell, all of us—made sure of that. She was going to leave regardless of whether or not you helped."

"Really?" Eric tried to hide the genuine surprise and relief in his voice, but he was unsuccessful. However, despite the amnesty granted, the young man's guilt could not be so easily dismissed**.** "Still, I wish I could have at least tried to convince her to stay."

"Why didn't you?"

"I guess I could kinda see where she was coming from." Eric shrugged. "She wanted to be free, to take her own path in life without anyone telling her what she _should_ do or who she's _supposed_ to be. She felt trapped and, in my dumbass way, I wanted to help her break free."

"And you thought letting her go by herself on some cross-country trek would help?"

"To be honest, I wasn't really thinking about that." Eric sheepishly scratched the back of his head, and Red rolled his eyes.

"Big surprise there."

"I just wanted to help her and I figured as long as she knew someone here understood her and wasn't going to stand in her way, well, she might come to realise that everything's not so bad here; that she could come back home."

Red nodded slowly. "We were all expecting too much from Jackie too soon. Her running away was inevitable." He breathed deeply and gave his son a half nod. "You did what you thought was best for Jackie by respecting her wishes."

"Yeah." Eric exhaled slowly like a deflating balloon. "But Hyde was right. I didn't have to enable her. And now everyone hates me."

Red stood up off the counter and walked over to Eric, placing a large palm on his shoulder. "Son, sometimes doing the right thing means standing alone. It means getting yelled at, taking the blame, and having everyone hate you for it. There's a reason why doing the right thing is the hardest thing to do."

Eric couldn't help but smile. "So, is this a father-son bonding moment?" he hedged, pointing back and forth between them before Red dropped his hand with a scowl.

"You're still a dumbass."

"And there it goes..."

**.**

**.**

**.**

JACKIE HAD TAKEN the bus to Milwaukee where she boarded Amtrak, and from there she had chosen the Empire Builder route to Portland, Oregon. It was a forty-six hour train ride, but it would be safer and cleaner than taking a bus; plus, it was a hell of a lot roomier since she had booked her own private room.

She laid her head back against the headrest. Her eyes drooped shut as the gentle hum and clicks of the train gliding along the tracks lulled her to sleep. As she drifted, her mind unfettered and the shackles of the real world slipped from her wrists. Sleep spindled her, wrapping her tightly in a cocoon of space until there was nothing but her in the void, and the sound of her own voice...

_Hello, Ruby. We meet again._  
Again? Who are you?

_Me? I'm Jackie. I'm you._

I see... this isn't at all confusing, or disturbing.

_How do you think I feel having to share the same headspace with a girl who dresses like Donna?  
_Hey, I didn't pack my suitcase!

_Clearly. When you get to Portland you're going to have to buy a whole new wardrobe.  
_Yeah, I'll get right on that.

_Ugh, you're so difficult. Although, I have to say I'm quite proud of you._  
Proud of me? Why?

_You're off on your own, going your own way—and you're fleeing a hell of a lot farther than Chicago this time.  
_Chicago?

_Yeah, the last time you took off like this you went to Chicago. Of course you had to get Michael to take you because you were so scared.  
_Uh, wouldn't that be you? You were the one running away, not me.

_Whatever. Semantics. You, I—w_e_ left for Chicago to fulfil our dreams, all because the one person we cared the most about in this world would rather get drunk with his friends than consider a life with us.  
_Huh? Who?

_You know who..._

But Jackie didn't have time to question who as her mind had already begun to spin out of time and space, drifting deeper and deeper until she was on the cusp of REM. There her brain tugged at loosened memories hidden by guilt and sorrow; pulling until they bubbled up in the well of her subconscious...

"Uhm, you guys, I gotta talk to Steven about something really serious."

She stepped past the morons feigning shock as they mocked her with quips about her being pregnant or having cheated, and took the seat closest to her boyfriend. Her focus was entirely on Steven, who was slumped in his chair, looking both frightened and concerned.

"Steven, this TV producer called to tell me he loved my public access show, and then he offered me a job at his station in Chicago starting next week."

"Whoa—" he sat up, clearing his throat "—you're going to take a job and move to Chicago?"

"No-no, not yet. I wanted to talk about it first."

She ignored the peanut gallery's contribution to hers and Steven's private conversation and leaned in closer as she clutched at her breast.

"Steven, this is my dream come true. But you—" she pointed to him "—are the most important thing in the world to me. So I'm willing to give it all up and stay here with you. But _if_ I do that, I need to know we're going to get married."

"Jackie, we _just_ agreed not to talk about our future."

"But our future is happening right now. Look—" she waved her hand "—the station needs an answer by noon on Sunday and I do too."

Steven shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, I don't know what to say right now..."

The scene faded, and the basement was replaced with the Pinciotti living room. Donna and a decidedly drunk and pantless Eric were kissing as she walked in.

"Eric, you're back." She glanced expectantly about the room. "Uhm, where's Steven?"

"Uh, okay." He turned around to face her. "He's passed out in the back of a beer warehouse."

Her heart plummeted into her stomach. "He's not coming. He's going to say 'no'!" She covered her face with her hands. "Oh my God!"

Her life was over.

**.**

JACKIE BOLTED AWAKE with a gasp. Her head was spinning and her throat was dry. She felt more tired now than she had before she fell asleep.

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she tried to figure out which parts of her body were sore and which weren't. There was a kink in her neck and her limbs felt unaccustomedly heavy, as if weighted down with lead. Tears stung her eyes and that was when she realised she had been crying in her sleep.

She reached up to touch her cheek just below the eye, pulling away fingers wet with saline. She rubbed them together with a frown. She didn't feel sad—so why exactly was she crying?

Shrugging off the question, Jackie wiped her hands down the front of her jeans and settled back into the seat. She stared out the window at the darkening landscape, watching the scenery pass her by, and sighed. There was no point in questioning the tears, not when she couldn't rationally explain her behaviour. Maybe it was the meds, maybe it was hormones, maybe she just had allergies. There were a lot of maybes and no definite answers.

It was the story of Jackie Burkhart's life.

**.**

**.**

**.**

HYDE WAS BENT over the carburettor, one hand holding a flashlight while the other fumbled about, trying to locate the loosened cap that had fallen through. His fingers, wet with grease, slipped on the edge of the metal that sliced jagged through the side of his palm like butter.

He pulled back his hand with a hiss, cradling the wounded appendage to his chest. Blood seeped into his yellow KISS tee, staining it crimson, and Hyde cursed a blue streak before locating a clean rag on the workbench to wrap around his injured hand. The bleeding had yet to stop, but he was hopeful that it wouldn't require any stitches. Later he'd have to get Mrs Forman to clean and dress the wound properly. But right now he just wanted to wallow in the throbbing pain pulsating like a heartbeat. It made him feel alive, distracting him from his thoughts.

But the pain was only temporary, like all things in Hyde's life, and his thoughts predictably drifted back to Jackie. Jackie alone; Jackie scared; Jackie hurt; Jackie raped; Jackie dying; Jackie dead. Every dark and disturbing scenario he could think of drove into his head like a spike, and he cursed the fact that this—all of this—was his fault. Jackie's accident, Jackie running away; he couldn't help but feel responsible.

Donna had told him he'd have to make a choice, but like with Chicago that choice had been taken away from him. Jackie had left before he had the chance to swallow his pride and put aside his petty insecurities and fear of rejection. It wasn't her fault, he had realised with bleak certainty; it was his. He should have made an effort to make her feel welcomed and safe, and he would have, eventually, had Pam not come along and fucked everything up.

Without thinking he turned towards the workbench and punched a fist through the plywood wall, feeling his middle two knuckles pop and sink inwards, dislocating at the joints. Tools shook and fell off the false wall onto the table with a clatter as the wood splinted apart. He drew back his hand and noted the already black and swollen middle two knuckles he had obviously done more than dislocate. Fresh blood poured from the earlier-inflicted wound, and he brought his hand back up to his chest and cursed.

"You're fixing that," said Red, coming up from behind. He grabbed another rag off the bench and handed it to Hyde, taking a cursory glance at the young man's mangled fist. "You should get Kitty to take a look at that."

Hyde merely nodded before taking the rag and carefully wrapping it around his hand.

"You know, Steven, punching your fist through a wall doesn't make you any more of a man than standing in a garage makes you a car."

Hyde's upper lip twitched as he tried his best not to snarl in pain. "You're quite the wordsmith there, Red."

"Shut your smartass mouth," Red ordered, although not too unkindly. "You're picking up Eric's bad habits."

"Opposed to his good ones?"

Red grimaced and took a step back, leaning against the back door of the Toyota. He hated having these sorts of talks, and two in one afternoon was more than enough to last him a lifetime.

"I know you're sore at him for letting Jackie go, but she felt trapped here and I don't blame her." Red crossed his arms over his chest. "You were all expecting too much from her. She was bound to crack."

"I get that. I do, but—" Hyde gritted his teeth. His hand felt like it was on fire and it hurt too much breathe let alone speak. "But it's Jackie."

"I know, son. I know." Red pushed himself off the car and awkwardly patted Hyde on the shoulder (there was way too much touching going on today for his liking). "How about we go inside and get Mrs Forman to look at your hand. Jackie'll call soon."

Hyde swallowed hard and nodded. He carefully cradled his hand to his chest and followed Red back inside the house. More than anything he needed that call, needed to know that Jackie was okay. Once again he found himself wanting to hear her voice again; needing it like a drowning man needed air. Because, quite frankly, Hyde wouldn't know any kind of peace until he knew for certain that she was safe.

**.**

**.**

**.**

PORTLAND UNION STATION was a wide building with pinkish-grey sandstone-coloured walls and a gaudy clock tower. On the other side of the tracks to the south was the Greyhound bus station, beyond that the hub of the city itself. Buses of all kinds—not just Greyhounds but Trailways and American Pathfinders—ringed the terminals and pushed deep into the loading docks. From here Jackie would take a bus to Detroit, transfer, and head straight to Breitenbush Springs.

She stood just outside the main entrance from the tracks, looking in. The terminal wasn't as crowded as she had hoped (safety in numbers), but at this time of the day in the middle of the week it was mainly filled with women and older gentlemen. Still, she guessed there were at least a hundred people milling about or sitting on the hard wooden benches and chairs.

Jackie made her way towards the payphones, jumping slightly when she heard the muffled train announcements echo like the warbled voice of God from the loudspeakers overhead.

"Hey, miss! Miss, can you help me out here?"

Jackie turned and saw a young black man with striking sea-green eyes and a dirty 'fro sitting with his back against one side of the terminal entrance. He looked no older than her, maybe younger.

"You got some spare change? Help a brother out?"

Jackie suddenly felt strange and faint, on the edge of some mental and emotional breakdown. Two days travelling by train and she had barely slept thanks to the rationing of her sleeping pills, which were soon running out. Whether it was lack of sleep or a trick of the eye, the terminal appeared to grow before her until it was as large and high as a cathedral. The room began to heave, like it was taking on water, and there was something oddly terrifying about the tidal movements of the people in its aisles and alcoves.

Once again that godlike voice through the speakers was announcing the next arrival, reminding assembled travellers that the express train to Seattle would be departing from Gate 2 in twenty-five minutes.

_I can't do this_, Jackie thought suddenly. _I can't live in this world_.

But then the young man cleared his throat, holding out his cap. Jackie shook her head, coming out of her daze, and reached into her pocket to fish out a dollar bill. She dropped it in his hat and he returned her charity with dimpled cheeks and a toothy grin.

"God bless, miss."

Jackie offered him a half smile and stepped past him, making her way to the payphones. Finding one free, she dialled a number and fed the machine dimes and quarters until it was sated and the call rang through.

"Hello?"

"Mrs Forman?"

"Jackie! Jackie, dear! Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Mrs Forman. I'm at Union Station in Portland."

"Maine?"

"No, Oregon."

"Oregon? My goodness! Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm good, Mrs Forman, just a little tired. I'm going to take a bus to Detroit then Breitenbush. There's a retreat there that I'm hoping to stay at for a bit."

"Oh... Do you know how long?"

"No. I'm not sure what I want to do yet. But a friend of mine at the hospital suggested this place. It's a holistic retreat, so it might help me with my memories and such."

"Oh, well that's good, then." There was a brief pause. "You know, Jackie, you're always welcome to come back here and live with us—whenever you're ready."

"I know, and thanks, Mrs Forman. I just—I just need some time to myself, where people don't know me. At least for a little while."

"I understand." Another pause. "Jackie?"

"Yes, Mrs Forman?"

"You took off in a bit of a hurry—and no one here is blaming you—but you had an appointment with a cardiologist in Chicago next week, and..."

"Oh, right. Uhm, when I get settled at Breitenbush, I'll come back to Portland and make an appointment. Could you, uh, maybe—"

"I'll get in contact with your doctor here and have him recommend you to a specialist in Portland. We'll send your medical information straight away. Don't worry, dear. I'll take care of everything."

"Thank you, Mrs Forman. I really appreciate everything you've done for me, and I'm so sorry—"

"Don't you dare apologise, young lady. You just get better, you hear me? We'll all be here for you whenever you need us. Okay?"

"Okay." She couldn't help but smile. "Uh, Mrs Forman, can you do me a favour?"

"Anything, dear."

"Tell Eric the Devil says, 'Thanks, Kid'."

There was a longer pause this time and then Mrs Forman laughed. "I'm not sure what that means, but okey-dokey! Ha-ha-ha!"

"Well, I gotta go. I'll call you when I arrive at Breitenbush. Take care, Mrs Forman."

"You too, Jackie. Bye-bye."

The other line went dead with a click and Jackie hung up the phone. Sighing, she turned back towards the terminal and glanced around before shouldering her bag. One leg of her journey was over; another one had just begun.

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

A/N: By the by, in case any of you were wondering, there *is* a Detroit, Oregon. It's the closest town to Breitenbush Hot Springs; so there you have it. ;) And never fear, Zennies; there will be some Jackie/Hyde moments coming up soon. Title inspired by Fleetwood Mac.


	13. Dream On

A/N: This chapter is rated M for some, uh, naughty thoughts and actions on Hyde's part. Sorry, but Hyde really wouldn't let me write it any other way. He was being very, very difficult. *sighs* Title and lyrics by Aerosmith.

* * *

Dream On

**.**

**.**

**.**

_9 April 1980  
10 miles ENE of Detroit, Oregon  
Breitenbush Holistic Retreat_

**.**

**.**

BREITENBUSH WAS PERCHED atop one of the lowest hills of the Cascades Range in western Oregon. The incline to reach the resort itself stretched over four miles, flanked by a happily wooded area still thickly covered with snow and with an entrance that greeted more than ten miles of winding landscapes, gravel paths, and a glacier-fed river; all within the panoramic view of the Range itself.

With its narrow canyons, cascading streams and wooded slopes, the resort was already an idyllic nature-lover's dream; the hot springs were just the proverbial icing on the cake. The hot springs themselves were on site, created through a combination of volcanism and glaciation thousands of years ago—or at least that's what Penny had told Jackie upon her arrival. All Jackie knew was that it was one hell of a trip to sit in a clear hot spring pool with temperatures ranging from one-hundred to one-hundred and nine degrees Fahrenheit while the outside air was just shy of thirty degrees and snowing.

The weather had been unseasonably cool this spring, especially in Portland and the surrounding areas. The higher the elevation the colder the temperatures, and the hot springs did very little to heat the mountain air. In fact, they did nothing, really. Still, despite it being slightly colder here than in Wisconsin, which Jackie thought was impossible short of living in Alaska, the brisk air and impressive forest scenery were as invigorating as they were relaxing.

Jackie hadn't expected such a spiritual sort of retreat. To be honest, she hadn't really been expecting anything other than the hopes that she wouldn't be confined indoors. She would not be disappointed. If anything, the holistic retreat was sort of like a hippie convention, minus the smell and the free love and the copious psychedelic drugs; although there was still a fair amount of weed. Most of the clients frequenting seemed more like rich tree-huggers than anything, and surprisingly most of them were in their twenties. The daily activities, aside from nature treks and soaking in the springs, ranged from deep tissue massages to yoga to meditation—all derived from various cultures and techniques.

The menu, though vegetarian, was surprisingly delicious. Although Jackie would not touch the eggplant soup—or, as she liked to call it, Gross Purple Soup (it wasn't _that_ purple, but whatever). The retreat certainly wasn't a five star spa resort you'd find in the Swiss Alps, but it had its rustic charms and, most importantly, it had anonymity.

The staff had been beyond helpful; there for her when she needed them and gone when she didn't. They all lived on-site, which made servicing easier and twenty-four-seven. Jackie hadn't expected to be welcomed so wholly. When she had first arrived, after impulsively hiring a taxi to drive her the ten miles to the resort from Detroit, she had asked the driver to stay—just in case there was no room or they turned her away for being so presumptuous to show up without booking. But the staff had taken her in right on the spot (of course having money probably helped), and thus began Jackie's adventures at Breitenbush Hot Springs.

The resort was host to a wide range of educational and spiritual activities, but what Jackie really appreciated was the chance to escape and enjoy her solitude. Most of her time was spent reading in the library, with its vast selection of classic novels, or listening to music or even chopping and piling wood. Yes, Jackie Burkhart performed manual labour! But despite the small measures of inner peace she enjoyed at this spiritual resort tucked away in the middle of the forest, the dreams continued to persist.

Jackie could never quite remember what the dreams were about, but the feelings that came over her upon waking were never pleasant. She always went away feeling troubled and apprehensive, like something wasn't quite right. Sometimes she recalled a voice, though she could not place it in her waking thoughts, and that voice had swiftly become an albatross hanging around her neck. Though she was sure this voice and these dreams pertained to her past and were perhaps the key to unlocking her memories, at the same time Jackie felt like this voice was keeping her down, holding her back and preventing her from getting better.

"Good morning, Ruby!"

Penny had glided into the room, her footfalls as soft and silent as the hem of her dress swishing along the floor. She opened the curtains, allowing muted white light to flood into the room, and Jackie groaned.

"How was your sleep?"

Jackie grumbled at Penny in response and rolled over onto her stomach, hiding her head underneath the pillow. She had barely slept, as usual. Her sleeping pills had long run out, along with her options for getting to sleep. Penny had suggested yoga, which did help a little, but with sleep came the nightmares and the voice, so it was sort of a win-lose scenario. Jackie had also tried meditation but all it did was bore her or send her into a sort of catatonic-like state, which apparently scared the hell out of the others, and even herself.

"That restful, huh?" Penny snorted and sat down on Jackie's bed. "How about we take a trip to Salem? I can get a friend of mine to write you up a prescription."

"Really?" Jackie removed her head from underneath the pillow and turned tired brown eyes up at the former nurse.

Penny was a petite but sturdy woman in her late twenties with a perpetually youthful face. Her complexion was olive, much like Jackie's but even lighter, with bright cornflower blue eyes to be envious of, and shoulder-length golden hair that was usually done up in a bun or some sort of twist. But best of all she had the kind of dimpled smile that was nothing short of motherly.

"Really." Penny placed a gentle hand on Jackie's and squeezed. "You need your sleep, hun. You look terrible."

Jackie wrenched her hand back and sat up in bed, instantly awake. "Oh my God! Get me a mirror and some make-up, quick!"

When Penny's eyes widened in surprise, Jackie smirked. She had been joking. Of course she was concerned about her looks (what teenager wasn't?), but not to the point of obsession. Yet a part of her did cringe at the idea of not looking perfectly put together, but she pushed that voice deep down into her subconscious and told it to stay.

"Want me to curl your hair before breakfast?" Penny curled a lock of Jackie's raven hair around her middle and index fingers, eyeing Jackie like a little girl would eye a doll she'd really like to dress up.

Jackie shrugged her assent before peeling back the covers and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet made contact with the cold wooden floors and she hissed, raising her feet back up off the ground. She should have slept in socks—and she did—but she always ended up slipping them off her feet in the middle of the night.

"I'm going to check on Anne now." Penny tucked a stray golden lock of her own back into its bun. "I'll be back once you're done your shower."

Jackie mumbled an incoherent goodbye and placed her feet back down on the floor with a wince. Her feet had got used to the cold and she to Penny. Though Jackie had been determined not to make any friends here, and to stay away from the hippies who mostly inhabited this retreat, Penny had become an exception. She was friendly and caring and just a touch nosy, but in the best motherly sort of way. In fact, Penny often reminded Jackie of a younger version of Mrs Forman.

Penny had once been a nurse at Oregon State Hospital, a state-run psychiatric hospital in Salem. The former nurse had seen gruesome things during her time there, and most of them hadn't included the morning vegetarian buffet of undercooked eggs and purple soups. There had been nothing to prepare her for that line of work and there had been no option other than to fall into it and find out there was no way to quit it without the heart-wrenching scruples that followed.

During her tenure there Penny had changed bandages and diapers, brought meals, administered drugs, and opened curtains in the mornings with her usual check-ups, which were really just an excuse to see whether the patient had hurt herself—or to find a dead body hanging from the rafters. Penny had helped grown women to the toilets, watched them weep when they couldn't _go_, held steadfastly onto their arms when they wobbled and threatened to fall to the ground. She had listened to them cry about their dead babies—some imaginary, some real—and watched the silent ones just stare lifelessly out the windows.

At times things had got a little crazy. People had got a little crazy, too. After the other nurses had found young Penny standing barefoot on the courtyard in January, knee-deep in the snow and crying—crying and crying and crying—the warden had recommended that she fill in an open masseuse position at Breitenbush.

Jackie had wondered why Penny hadn't just quit. She could have declined the offer to move to a new clinic—albeit the holistic retreat was just that, a retreat—and said, 'Thanks but no thanks. I think I'm gonna go start a new stage in my life right about now.' But she didn't. She packed her bags and moved on up to Breitenbush, to deal with weirdoes and the hippies and a shit-tonne more drug addicts than Jackie would have initially expected in Oregon (but then what did she know?), and became a masseuse and a yoga instructor.

Penny had told Jackie that she didn't want to be a nurse, at least not for a while, but she had still wanted to help people because that was what she loved to do. Jackie didn't doubt the sincerity of her words, but her cynical side had suspected it had more to do with convenience. It was a whole lot easier to continue with what you knew rather than branch off into the completely unknown. There would be no support system in doing that, no sense of familiarity. She would have been going in blind, unsure, insecure, and alone. Doing something totally different would have made her feel lost and, well, Jackie could relate to that.

And while Penny's position at the retreat was still considered to be in the vein of personal service care, the line of work was vastly different. Old habits died hard and because of that there were three unusual things that Penny did at Breitenbush that no other employee did:

• She supervised the daily walks to the river.

• She made the guests (she sometimes slipped up and called them patients) compose a list titled, 'Reasons Why I Am Awesome'.

• She always opened the curtains in the morning.

**.**

**.**

**.**

LIFE WAS SUPPOSED to get easier with Jackie gone. Everything was supposed to go back to normal. Things were supposed to get easier, better. But were they?

She was never supposed to get close to him the way she did. She was never meant to get inside his head. But it wasn't completely her fault. He was supposed to keep his head his own, to keep that last iota of distance between them in order to protect her, and protect himself.

He swore sometimes that she had mystical voodoo powers; the way she could creep into his dreams, even his waking thoughts. It was like she was still holding onto some minuscule part of him, holding it hostage, and he never noticed her footprints on his mind until it was too late.

_She's stealing things you'll never get back._

Hyde threw his head back against the pillow and sighed. Here he was in the prime of his life, lying in bed on a Friday night. Why? Because of Jackie, that's why.

He had been at the bar, looking more to drink than cruise for chicks. But a leggy blonde at the bar caught his eye, doing that thing with her lips that girls do when they're trying to ensnare you, and he thought, why not?

The girl had been ready, willing, and able. Between the kissing and groping, he had even discovered she had a decent sense of humour. She sort of reminded him of Donna, which was a slight problem in itself. But even with her full lips latched onto the pulse of his neck, whispering dirty words he had rarely heard outside of pornos, his mind refused to budge from one thought.

Jackie.

An hour later Hyde was resting on his back on his cot, cursing the brunette's name. He kicked the blankets off in a fit of frustration and glanced down his body to see the tip of his cock peeking through the top of his boxers, facing him like the barrel of a gun.

He grimaced. He was already hard at the mere thought of Jackie. It figured.

Normally an erection was something he only had to worry about in the morning; something he took care of within seconds upon waking. Jacking off at night wasn't something he regularly indulged. It was unsatisfying, and often his mind would drift to form the image of a certain petite brunette.

The fog of Hyde's mind stirred with his nether regions, taking on the shape of a woman. He narrowed his eyes, as if to help crystallise the vision and make it visceral. Yet it was nothing more than a pale reflection of the real thing.

_Her__._

His erection caught his attention again and he tried in vain to ignore it. The head had turned a rosy pink, the corded veins hiding just underneath the skin, and of its own volition his hand began to trail down his chest and past his navel, over the small thatch of curly hair before wrapping around the length and gliding up and down the shaft.

It didn't feel right somehow, and the thought of satisfying himself all alone angered him. But his body was begging for stimulation and all Hyde had was himself—a very important life lesson was embedded in this somewhere, he was sure. He had his memories of past conquests that he could retrieve at will to help with this moment or he could retrieve a nudie magazine from under his cot, but none of these options were good enough. Whenever he tried to focus on a single image, blonde would become brunette, blue eyes would become brown, pale skin would become olive-toned.

_Fuck, just go with it!_ he ordered impatiently, and slowly Jackie's image began to fill in the mould. But it was more than the visual. He could smell her, taste her, feel his tongue piercing through her soft folds and the weight of her body in his hands as she bucked against him, grasping at his curls as she gushed into his mouth.

Hyde swallowed at the memory and his hand moved up and down his shaft a little faster. He wanted to feel her on top of him, inside her. He wanted to feel her tongue lapping against his skin, wanted to hear the sound of her breathing, softly moaning against his ear. He wanted to touch her all over, to relive the moment of feeling her body intimately possessed by his.

His back arched off the cot and he squeezed his eyes shut. A short series of grunts escaped his lips as he imaged himself pushing deep inside her and then retreating as his shaft glistened with a shimmering sheen of her arousal.

He coated his bottom lip with a line of saliva, wishing someone else was here to lick it off. But even if she was here, touching her would be a forbidden act. She was taboo now, no longer his. But it didn't stop him from wanting her. And if he couldn't have her in reality, he could touch himself while thinking of her. That way he could be in control.

Only he wasn't.

Hyde's mouth fell open as he increased the pressure, his hand going up the length of his shaft before squeezing right underneath the circumcised hood and sliding over the sensitive head. He knew his body well. Sometimes he liked to take his time and other times all it took was a few strong pumps and he was done.

He envisioned her small hand cupping his balls as she rode him; her long dark hair gliding over his chest as a wet tongue lapped at his neck. The inferno was building inside him now, rushing to the surface to erupt. Tension built with every stroke, and with one hard tug and squeeze he detonated.

A hoarse groan filled the air as his hips continued to thrust into the palm of his hand, coating it with semen. His euphoria lasted for a while, longer than usual, and his hand fell limply away, bouncing against the iron-sprung mattress. He tried to regulate his breathing the best way he knew how and stared blankly at the ceiling.

**.**

**.**

**.**

ALL RATIONAL THOUGHTS slipped away in sleep, until gradually there was no world for Jackie but the world of dreams. Jackie Burkhart, Ruby Tuesday; none of that matter here. Nothing mattered.

Her dreams had become a keyhole to a whole new world, familiar yet foreign, revealing a shadowy maze lined with mirrors reflecting different version of herself. Each face had become a mask and with each dream a new mask dropped to the floor, each more intricate than the last. It was deception married to prevarication, giving birth to the bastard child of pride.

There were truths to her dreams, and discovery, but there was also great pain. And it was here that a menacing figure stalked her every movement, drawing closer and closer until he would have her. No matter how many times she twisted and turned and darted through and doubled back, he would find her.

He, or she?

The concept of dreaming was known to the waking mind but to the dreamer there was no waking, no sanity. There was only the fragmented reality and the bedlam of sleep. But what happened when that fragmented reality chose to leave the confines of the sleeping world to inhabit the waking one? Jackie had yet to dwell on such a frightening concept, for she was too busy fleeing from her tormentors, self-imposed or otherwise, waiting for the moment when Ruby would decide it was time to wake up to the light.

"Good morning, Ruby!"

Jackie jerked awake in time to see Penny thrust open the curtains. The bubbly woman gazed down at Jackie with a dimpled smile before sitting down on the edge of her bed.

"It's a lovely day out today. I was thinking about leading a group down to the river for some meditation. You wanna come?"

Jackie mumbled something incoherent into her pillow before turning onto her side with a grunt. She drew the blanket up over her head and Penny took that as her cue to leave the room. Once the door shut, Jackie rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes, stretching her limbs to every corner of the bed like a starfish on the beach.

Five minutes passed and the birds became insistent with their songs, causing Jackie to wrinkle her brow in annoyance. She blinked repeatedly to clear the sleep out of her eyes and absently ran her fingers through her hair. After a moment she sat up, stretching her arms as she tried to work the kinks out of her back. Her bare feet made contact with the cold wooden floor and she hissed. She'd really have to get a rug in here or train herself to stop taking off her socks in the middle of the night.

After sorting herself in her private washroom, Jackie padded over to the bureau and rummaged around the drawers until she found the clothes she was going to wear for the day. She stacked the clothing neatly on top of one another and then switched on the radio. Standing in front of the mirror, she picked up her brush and began working on untangling the stray knots in her hair.

_Every time that I look in the mirror  
All these lines on my face getting clearer  
The past is gone  
It went by like dusk to dawn_

The brush caught in her hair and Jackie frowned, staring at the radio so intently it looked as though she was going to burn a hole in it with her vision.

_Isn't that the way?  
Everybody's got the dues in life to pay  
_

"Shut your big fat mouth, Steven Tyler!"

Jackie snapped off the radio dial with a click and gathered her clothes before stomping off to the showers. Her personal cabin was only equipped with a bed, bureau, and a room for a toilet and a sink. There was an entirely separate cabin for the showers; one for women and one for men. Luckily no one was in the woman's showers this early in the morning, so Jackie was able to shower in peace and soak up all the hot water.

As she stood under the nozzle of the spray, Jackie could feel the water pound away at her heat-reddened skin and alleviate her stress. She let out a contented sigh. One of the great things about this place was the unlimited hot water and how good it felt on her skin. She felt more relaxed now than she since, well ever, according to her limited recollection, yet there was still a void in her life—a void she could not name. She didn't feel connected to anyone or anything.

Penny had suggested activities to help with her memory, aside from meditation. One of those suggestions had been to start a diary, not just to record her current activities but to ask herself questions that she often thought of but never vocalised aloud. Jackie had obliged, in secret, and wrote a few pages here and there. They were inquisitive and seemingly innocuous questions that would always come from odd moments of courage and self-loathing: 'Did I have any special talents? Was I a nice person? Did people like me? Was I ever in love? Did anyone really love me?'

The sentences were always erased within the next few minutes or, more often than not, drawn through with bold double lines. Two lines would become three then four then five—a myriad of verticals, diagonals, horizontals, and even a few circles—until they all met together to form an indiscernible pattern.

Sometimes next to the smudge of ink she'd draw an arrow that pointed towards it and on the other end write, 'Word vomit!' But every time she'd crumple the paper in her fist and try to sink it into the waste bin at the end of her bed and almost always missed. Then she'd turn her attention to her hands, staring intently at the ink stains on her fingers, imagining the blue smears as a sort of cancer—swelling and spreading, slowly breaking down her body until there was nothing left but bone.

And those were the _good_ days.

"Hey! You're going to prune up if you stay in there any longer!"

Penny rattled the shower door, scaring the hell out of Jackie, who clutched at her chest as if her heart was trying to escape from its bone cage.

"Penny! You goober!" Jackie was huddled up against the side of the stall, trying to slow down her heart-rate. Her heart beat erratically for a few seconds and, after catching her breath, she banged on the door. "Stop doing stuff like that! You're gonna give me a heart attack!"

Penny just laughed. "I thought you were trying to drown yourself."

Jackie wondered if Penny really believed that and this was just an excuse to check up on her. How long had she been in the shower, anyway? She glanced down at her hands and noted the puckered flesh with a grimace. Okay, so maybe she had been in here too long.

"Coming for breakfast?"

"Yeah, yeah." Jackie turned off the tap. "I'm coming! Hold your horses!"

After drying herself off and getting dressed, Jackie made her way to the main cabin to meet up with Penny. She meandered up the shovelled path, her boots crunching in the snow, when she glanced up to see a taxi waiting in driveway. A tall girl with long, straight honey-brown hair awkwardly stepped out of the cab. She was wearing what looked to be a cast boot on her right leg.

"Chloe?"

The girl turned around and a look of recognition sparked in her silver-grey eyes. "Hey!" She waved excitedly before reaching Jackie in several uneasy steps on her boot. "Hey, how's it going, man?"

"Good, good." Jackie nodded slowly, tucking her hair behind her ear as she watched the taxi drive away. "I was wondering when you'd get here. I came here on my own, just like you suggested."

"That's awesome!" The grey-eyed girl pumped an energetic fist in the air and grinned at Jackie before a nonplussed expression settled on her features. "Uhm, so who are you again?"

Jackie clicked her tongue along her teeth and nodded. Yup, it was definitely Chloe.

**.**

**.**

**.**


End file.
